^, 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


2^ 


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//^.^^!^ 


.V  .^ 


^*^5^ 


«^<j 


^ 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


ISO   "f^     H^H 

•^  1^    1 2.2 

Lo    mil  2.0 


lU 

lU 


II 


1.4 


1.6 


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7 


y 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


^^^^ 


33  WEST  MAIN  STRIET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MS80 

(716)  872-4503 


'^ 


A 


4^n 


7a 


M6 

% 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  mtcroreproductions  historlques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibiiographiques 


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which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usuai  method  of  fil;ning,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


n 

D 
D 

D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommag^e 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pellicul^e 


□    Cover  title  missing/ 
Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

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Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
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Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
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II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
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mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6X6  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
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L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
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modification  dans  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


I      I    Coloured  pages/ 


/ 


D 
D 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous. 


Pages  de  couleur 

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EShowthrough/ 
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C 


Comprend  du  materiel  suppl^mentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
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obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6X6  filmdes  &  nouveau  de  fapon  6 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

/ 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X 

32X 

1 

ilaire 
8  details 
ques  du 
It  modifier 
(iger  une 
le  filmage 


The  copy  filmed  here  hat  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  the  Public 
Archives  of  Canada 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  In  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  fllmi  fut  reprodult  grflce  A  la 
ginirositA  de: 

La  bibliothdque  des  Archives 
publiques  du  Canada 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6x6  reprcauites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  comptb  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  netteti  de  l'exemplaire  filmi,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


1/ 
ludes 


Original  ccpies  in  pdnted  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  Illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  orlglnaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  ImprimAe  sont  filmAs  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impresslon  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
orlglnaux  sont  fiimis  en  commen9ant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impresslon  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  --^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  tiur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — «*>  signifSe  "A  SUIVRE".  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


lire 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  Illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes  planchos,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmis  d  des  U.ua  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reprodult  en  un  seul  cliche.  II  est  film6  A  partir 
de  I'angle  supArleur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  bas.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessalre.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mithode. 


ly  errata 
ed  to 

ant 

me  pelure, 

a9on  A 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

S 

6 

N  A  RRATIVE 


OF   THE 


;t 


CAPTIVITY 


i'^v'' 


>* 


OP 


m 


MRS.  JOHNSON, 


I     jf 


'^-     CONT  A  IN  ING  ^  ,i 

•^-  .......        .  .  ,   ,  , 

IN  ACCOUNT  OF  HER  SUFFERINGS,  DURING 

FOUR  FEAaS,   WITH  THE  INDIANS 

AND  FRENCH. 


NEW  YORK; 
1841; 


'V 


f 


V 


iiiliiMiir'«tia 


INTRODUCTIOir. 


NOTICES  OP  THE  WIIXARD  FAMILY. 

To  trace  the  progress  of  families,  from 
their  origin  to  the  present  day,  when  per- 
haps they  are  spread  over  the  four  quarters 
of  the  globe,  and  no  memorandums  are 
found  except  in  the  uncertain  pages  of  mem- 
ory, is  a  task  which  can  be  but  feebly  per- 
formed. In  noticing  the  name  of  Willard, 
which  was  my  family  name,  I  cannot  pre- 
tend to  accuracy ;  but  the  information 
which  I  have  collected,  will  perhaps  be  of 
some  service  to  others,  who  possess  a  great- 
er stock  ;  and  if  the  various  branches  of 
families  would  contribute  their  mites,  it 
would  be  an  easy  way  of  remedying  the  de- 
ficiency, which  at  present  exists  in  Ameri- 
can genealogy. 

The  first  person  by  the  name  of  Willard 
who  settled  in  this  country,  was  Major 
Willard,  whose  name  is  recorded  in  the  ni»- 
tory  of  New-England  wars.  In  the  year 
sixteen  hundred  and  seventy  five,  in  the 
time  of  ^^Philip's  war,"  a  notorious  Indian 
who  lived  within  the  present  limits  of  the 
state  of  Rhode-Island,  Major  Willard  who 
then  lived  in  the  town  of  Lancaster  in  Mas- 
sachusetts, commanded  «i  iroop  of  horse  ; 
and  among  his  vigorous  services,  he  reliev- 


I 'is 

l.t'r- 


ftt. 

t 


/ 


/ 


i     i 


\ 


w 


\  i 

\   i 


4  CAPTIVITT  or 

ed  the  town  of  Brookfield  from  the  Nipnet 
Indians,  who  had  burnt  every  house  but  one, 
and  had  almost  reduced  that  to  capitula- 
tion. When  Lancaster  was  destroyed  by 
the  Indians,  Major  Willard  removed  to  Sa- 
lem, where  he  spent  the  rest  of  his  days. — 
He  had  two  sons,  one  of  whom  was  a  settled 
minister  in  the  town  of  Groton  ;  which 
place  he  was  driven  from  by  the  Indians, 
and  was  afterwards  installed  in  Boston. — 
His  other  son,  Simon,  established  himself 
on  Still  River,  since  taken  from  Lancaster, 
and  incorporated  into  the  town  of  Harvard. 
He  had  nine  sons,  Simon,  Henry,  Hezckiah, 
John,  Joseph,  Josiah,  Samuel,  Johnathan 
and  James  ;  Josiah  removed  to  Winchester 
in  New-Hamshire,  and  afterwards  com- 
manded Fort  Dummer  ;  the  rest  inherited 
the  substance  of  their  father,  and  lived  to 
very  advanced  ages  in  the  vicinity  of  their 
birth.  They  ail  left  numerous  families, 
who  spread  over  the  United  States.  His 
eldest  Son,  Simon.^  was  my  f^rand-father  ; 
he  had  two  sons,  Aaron  and  Moses  :  Aaron 
lived  in  Lancaster,  and  Moses,  my  father, 
removed  to  Lunenburg.  I  ought  to  remark 
that,  my  grandmother  Willard,  after  the 
death  of  her  husband,  married  a  person  by 
the  name  ol  Farnsworth,  by  whom  she  had 
three  sons,  who  were  the  first  settlers  of 
Charlestown,  No.  4 — one  of  them  was  kill- 
ed by  the  Indians. 


i 

■ 


Nipnet 

)ut  one, 

apitula- 

yed  by 

1  to  Sa- 

days. — 

El  settled 

which 

[ndians, 

oston. — 

himself 

mcastery 

larvard. 

ezekiab, 

)hnathan 

inchester 

ds   com- 

inherited 

lived  to 

of  their 

families^ 

tes.     His 

:i-father  ; 

5  :  Aaron 

y  father, 

0  remark 
after  the 
)erson  by 

1  she  had 
ettlers  of 
was  kill- 


MRfl.    JOHNSON.  5 

My  father  had  twelve  children  ;  he  re- 
moved to  Charlestown,  No.  4,  in  1742,  and 
soon  had  the  pleasure  to  find  his  children 
settled  around  him  :  he  was  killed  by  the 
Indians  in  1756.  My  mother  died  March, 
1797,  and  had  lived  to  see  twelve  children, 
ninety-two  grand  children  one  hundred  and 
twenty-three  great  grand-children,  and  four 
great-great-grand  children.  The  whole 
that  survive  are  now  settled  on  the  Con- 
necticut River. 


NOTICES  OF  MR.  JAMES  JOHNSON. 

In  the  year  1730,- my  great-uncle,  Col.  Jo- 
siah  Willard,  while  at  Boston,  was  invited 
to  take  a  walk  on  the  long-wiiarf,  to  view 
some  transports  who  had  just  landed  from 
Ireland  ;  a  number  of  gentlemen  present 
were  viewing  the  exercise  of  some  lads  who 
were  placed  on  shore,  to  exhibit  their  activ- 
ity to  those  who  wished  to  purchase.  My 
uncle  spied  a  boy  of  some  vivacity,  of  about 
ten  years  of  age,  and  who  was  the  only  one 
in  the  crew  who  spoke  English  :  he  bargain- 
ed for  him.  I  have  never  been  able  to  learn 
the  price  ;  but  as  he  was  afterwards  my  hus- 
band, I  am  willing  to  suppose  it  a  consider- 
able sura.  He  questioned  the  boy  respect- 
ing his  parentage  and  descent.  All  the  in- 
formation he  could  get  was,  that  youn^ 
James,  a  considerable  time  previous,  went 


( 


(( 


. 


i  CAPTIYITT   or 

to  sea  with  his  uncle,  who  had  the  appear- 
ance of  a  man  of  property,  that  this  uncle 
was  taken  sick  at  sea  and  died  ;  immediate- 
ly after  his  death  they  came  in  sight  of  this 
ship  of  Irii^h  transports,  and  he  was  put  on 
board.  His  being  the  only  one  of  the  crew 
who  spoke  English,  and  other  circumstan- 
ces, have  led  his  friends  to  conclude  that 
this  removal  on  board  the  Iiish  ship,  was 
done  to  facilitate  the  sequestration  of  his 
uncle's  property.  He  lived  with  Col.  Wil- 
lard  until  he  was  twenty  years  old,  and  then 
bought  the  other  year  of  his  time.  In  17- 
48  Gov,  Shirlev  gave  him  a  lieutenant's 
commission  under  Edward  Hartwell,  Esij. 


SITUATION   OF   THE   COUNTRY 

IN  1744. 

It  is  an  old  maxim,  that  after  a  man  is  in 
possession  of  a  small  independent  property, 
it  is  easy  for  him  to  acquire  a  great  fortune; 
just  so  with  countries  ;  possess  them  of  a 
few  inhabitants,  and  let  those  be  unmolest- 
ed by  Indians  and  enemies,  the  land  will 
soon  swarm  with  inhabitants  But  when  a 
feeble  band  only  are  gathered  togeiiier,  and 
obliged  to  contend  with  pestilence,  famine 
and  the  sword,  their  melancholy  numbers 
will  decrease  and  \vaste  away.  The  situa- 
tion of  our  ancestors  has  often  been  desrib- 
fd  in  language  that  did  honor  to  the  hearts 


!  appear- 
is  uncle 
mediate- 
it  of  this 
s  put  on 
the  crew 
cumstan- 
ude  that 
hip,  was 
>n  of  his 
moI.  Wil- 
and  then 
In  J7- 
utenant's 
?li,  Esq. 

NTRY 

man  is  in 
property, 
t  fortune; 
liem  of  a 
[inmolest- 
land  will 
it  when  a 
itl>er,  and 
e,  famine 
'  numbers 
rhe  situa- 
en  desrib- 
the  hearts 


II  Hi*    fORl?BON« 


t 


tliat  conceiTed  it*  The  boisteroi»  oceu, 
with  unknown  shores  hemmed  them  in  on 
one  side,  and  a  forest,  swarming  with  saya* 
ges,  yelling  for  their  blood,  threatened  on 
the  other.  Bnt  the  same  undaunted  spirit 
which  has  defended  them  in  so  many  perils^ 
boyed  them  above  despair  in  their  early 
struggles  for  safety  and  liberty.  I  shall  be 
pardoned  for  the  digression  when  I  observe^ 
that  I  have  in  all  my  travels  felt  a  degree  of 
pride  in  recollecting^  tliat  I  belonged  to  a 
country  whose  valor  was  distinguished,  and 
whose  spirit  had  never  been  debased  by  ser- 
vile submission.  ^  • 

At  the  age  of  fourteen,  in  1744, 1  made  a 
visit  from  Leomisnter  to  Charlstown,  to  vis- 
it my  parents.  Through  a  long  wilderness 
from  Lunenburg  to  Lower  Ashuelot,  now 
Swanzey,  we  traveled  two  days  ;  a  solita- 
ry house  was  all  the  mark  of  cultivation 
that  occurred  on  the  journey.  Guided  hy 
marked  trees,  we  travelled  cautiously  thro' 
the  gloomy  forest,  where  now  the  well-till- 
ed farms  occupy  each  rod  of  ground:  from 
Ashuelot  to  Charlestown  the  passage  was  op- 
posed, now  bv  "the  hill  of  difficulty,'*  and 
now  by  the  slough  despond.  A  few  solita- 
ry inhabitants,  who  appeared  the  repl*(6liM^ 
tatives  of  wretehedness,  were  scatteredd  on 
the  way.  «    *- 

When  I  approached  the  town  of  Charles- 
town,  the  first  object  that  met  my  eyes  was 


( 


8  CAPTITITT  or 

a  party  of  Indians  holding  a  war  dance,  a 
cask  of  rum  which  the  inhabitants  had  suf- 
fered them  to  partake  of,  had  raised  their 
spirits  to  all  the  horrid  yells,  and  feats  af 
distortion  which  characterize  the  nation. — 
I  was  chilled  at  the  sight,  and  passed  trem- 
blingly by.  At  this  time  Charlestown  con- 
tained nine  or  ten  families,  who  lived  in 
huts  not  far  distant  from  each  other.  The 
Indians  were  numerous,  and  associated  in  a 
friendly  manner  with  the  whiter.  It  was 
the  most  northerly  settlement  on  Conneticut 
River,  and  the  adjacent  country  was  terri- 
bly wild.  A  sawmill  was  erected,  and  the 
first  boards  were  sawed  while  I  was  there  : 
the  inhabitants  commemorated  the  event 
with  a  dance,  which  took  place  on  the  new 
boards.  In  those  days  there  was  such  a 
mixture  on  the  frontiers,  of  savages  and  set- 
tlersi  without  established  laws  to  govern 
them,  that  the  state  of  society  cannot  be 
easily  described,  and  the  impending  dangers 
of  war,  where  it  was  known  that  the  sava- 
ges would  join  the  enemies  of  our  country, 
retarded  the  progress  of  refinement  and  cul- 
tivation. The  inhabitants  of  Charlestown 
began  to  erect  a  fort,  atid  took  some  steps 
towards  clearing  their  farms  ;  but  war  soou 
checked  their  industry. 


MRS.    JOHIf»OIf. 


» 


'  dance,  a 
s  had  suf- 
sed  tbcir 
d  feats  af 
nation. — 
sed  trem- 
,own  con- 
0  lived  in 
ler.     The 
iated  in  a 
$.     It  wasi 
onneticut 
was  terri- 
],  and  the 
ras  there  : 
the   event 
n  the  new 
as  such  a 
es  and  set- 
to  govern 
[:ahnot  be 
ig  dangers 
i  the  sava- 
p  country, 
it  and  cul- 
larlestown 
some  s>teps 
t  war  %Q^x 


\ 


CHARLESTOWN. 

In  the  year  1740,  the  first  settlement  was 
made  in  the  town  of  Charlestown,  then 
known  by  the  name  of  No  4,  by  three  fam- 
ilies who  emigrated  from  Lunenburgh,  by 
the  name  of  Farnsworth  ;  that  part  of  New- 
Hampshire  west  of  Merimac  River  was  then 
a  trackless  wilderness.  Within  a  few  years 
past  instances  have  been  known,  of  new 
townships  totally  uninhabited,  becoming 
flourishing  and  ihick  settled  villages  in  the 
course  of  six  or  seven  ytars.  But  in  those 
days,  when  savages  were  on  our  borders 
and  Frenchmen  in  Canada,  population  ex- 
tended with  timorous  and  tardy  paces  ;  in 
the  course  of  twelve  vcars  the  families  in- 
creased  only  to  twenty  two  or  three.  The 
human  race  will  not  flourish  unless  fostered 
by  the  warm  sunshine  of  peace. 

During  the  first  twenty  years  of  its  exis- 
tence as  a  settled  place,  until  the  peace  be- 
tween Great-Britain  and  France,  it  suffered 
all  the  consternation  and  ravages  of  war  ; 
not  that  warfare  which  civilized  nations 
wage  with  each  other,  but  the  cruel  carnage 
of  savages  and  Frenchmen.  Sometimes  en- 
gaged ^n  the  duties  of  the  camp,  at  others 
sequestering  themselves  from  surrounding 
enemies,  they  became  familiar  with  danger, 
but  not  with  industrious  husbandry. 

In  the  year  1744,  the  inhabitants  began 
to  erect  a  fort  for  their  safety.     When  the 


f 


MMtWM 


CAPTIVITT   OF 

Cape  Breton  war  commenced,  the  Indians 
assumed  the  hatchet  and  began  their  depre- 
dations on  Charlestown  on  the  19tb  day  of 
April  A.  D.  1746,  by  bi  rning  the  mills,  and 
taking  Capt.  John  Spafford,  Isaac  Parker, 
and  Stephen  Farnsworth  prisoners.  On  the 
second  of  May  following  Seth  Putnam  was 
killed.  Two  days  after  Capt.  Pay  oe  arriv- 
ed with  a  troop  of  horse  from  Massachu- 
setts, to  defend  the  place ;  about  twenty  of 
his  men  had  the  curiosity  to  view  the  place 
where  Putnam  was  killed,  and  were  am- 
bushed by  the  Indians.  Capt.  Stevens,  who 
commanded  a  few  men,  rushed  out  of  the 
fort  to  their  relief ;  a  sharp  combat  ensued, 
in  which  the  Indians  were  routed  :  they  left 
some  guns  and  blankets  on  the  field  of  ac- 
tion, but  they  carried  their  dead  off  with 
them  which  is  a  policy  they  never  omit. — 
Ensign  Obadiah  Sartwell  was  captured,  and 
Samuel  Farnsworth,  Elijah  Allen,  Peter 
Perin,  Aaron  Lyon  and  Joseph  Massey  fell 
victims  to  Indian  vengeance. 

On  the  19th  of  June  a  severe  engagement 
took  place.  Capt.  Brown,  from  Stow  in 
Massachusetts,  had  previously  arrived  with 
some  troops  ;  a  party  of  his,  joined  a  num- 
ber of  Capt.  Stevens'  soldiers  to  go  into  the 
meadow  after  their  horsc^s.  The  dogs  discov- 
ered an  ambush,  which  put  them  into  a  pos- 
ture for  action,  and  gave  them  the  advan- 
tage of  the  fir;  fire.     This  disconcerted  the 


MRS.  JOHNSON. 


11 


the  Indians 
heir  depre- 
I9th  day  of 
e  mills,  and 
aac  Parker, 
rs.  On  the 
Putnam  was 
Pay  oe  arriv- 
I  Massacliu- 
it  twenty  of 
5w  the  place 
id  were  am- 
kevens,  who  I 
d  out  of  the 
nbat  ensued, 
d  :  they  left 

field  of  ac- 
ead  off  with 
jver  omit. — 
aptured,  and 
Allen,  Peter 

Massey  fell 

engagement 
om  Stow  in 
arrived  with 
)ined  a  num* 
)  go  into  the 
idogsdiscov- 
m  into  a  poi- 
1  the  advan- 
oncerted  the 


savages,  whd  being  on  higher  ground  over- 
jshot,  and  did  but  little  damage  to  the  En- 
glish. The  enemy  were  routed,  and  even 
seen  to  drag  several  dead  bodic  o  after  them. 
They  left  behind  them  guns,  spears  and 
blankets,  which  sold  at  401  old  tenor.  Dur- 
ing the  time  Capt.  Josiah  Brown  assisted  in 
defending  the  fort,  Jedidiah  Winchel  was 
killed,  Samuel  Stanhope,  Cornet  Baker  and 
David  Parker  were  wounded.  During  this 
summer  the  fort  was  entirely  blockaded, 
and  all  were  obliged  to  take  refuge  within 
the  pickets.  On  the  3d  day  of  August  one 
Philips  was  killed  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
fort,  as  he  accidentally  stepped  out  ;  at 
night  a  soldier  crept  to  him  with  a  rope, 
and  he  was  drawn  into  the  fort  and  inter- 
red. In  the  summer  of  the  year  1746,  Capt. 
Ephraim  Brown  from  Sudbury,  arrived 
with  a  troop  of  horse  to  relieve  Capt*  Josi- 
ah Brown.  The  Sudbury  troop  tarried  a- 
bout  a  month,  and  were  relieved  by  a  com- 
pany commanded  by  Capt.  Winchester,  who 
defended  ihe  place  till  autumn,  when  the 
inhabitants,  fatigued  with  watching,  and 
weary  of  the  dangers  of  the  forest,  desert- 
ed the  place  entirely  for  iibout  six  months. 
In  the  month  of  August  previous  to  the  e- 
Tacuation,  the  Indians  assisted  by  their 
brethren  the  French,  were  very  troublesome 
and  mischievous ;  they  destroyed  all  the 
horses,  hogs  and  cattle.     An  aittack  was 


f 


'5. 


t 


■_gB|Mam~-v  »~— 


!   t.' 


12 


CAPTIVITT    or 


made  on  the  fort,  which  lasted  two  davs.--^ 
My  father  at  this  time  lost  ten  cattle,  but 
the  people  were  secure  behind  their  wood- 
en walls,  and  received  but  little  damage. 

In  this  recess  of  ihe  settlement  of  No.  4, 
the  Indians  and  French  were  ice-locked  in 
Canada,  and  the  frontiers  suffered  only  in 
apprehension.  In  March,  1747.  Capt.  Phin- 
ehas  Stevens,  who  commanded  a  ranging 
party  of  about  thirty  men,  marched  to  No. 
4,  and  took  possession  of  the  fort.  He  found 
it  uninjured  by  the  enemy,  and  an  old  span- 
iel and  a  cat,  who  had  been  domesticated 
before  the  evacuation,  had  guarded  it  safe- 
ly thro'  the  winter,  and  gave  the  troops  a 
hearty  welcome  to  their  tenement. 

Capt.  Stevens  was  of  eminent  service  to 
the  infant  settlement.  In  1748  he  moved 
his  family  lo  the  place,  and  encouraged  the 
settlers  by  his  fortitude  and  industry.  In 
the  early  part  of  his  life,  when  Rutland 
suffered  by  savage  vengeance,  when  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Willard  was  murdered,  he  was  taken 
prisoner  and  carried  to  St.  Francis.  This 
informed  him  of  the  Indian  customs,  and 
iamiliarized  him  with  th(  ir  mode  of  war- 
fare :  he  was  an  active,  penetrating  soldier, 
and  a  respectable,  worthy  citizen. 

In  a  few  days  after  tiie  fort  was  taken 
possession  of  by  Capt.  Stevens'  troops,  a 
party  of  600  French  and  Indians,  command- 
ed by  Mens.  Debelcie,  sallied  from  their  den 


! 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


13 


two  (lavs. — 
[1  cattle,  but 
their  wood- 
I  damage, 
nt  of  No.  4, 
ce-locked  in 
5red  only  in 
Capt.  Phin- 
id  a  ranging 
ched  to  No. 
•t.  He  found 
an  old  span- 
lomesticated 
irded  it  safe- 
rhe  troops  a 
ent. 

it  service  to 
8  he  moved 
:ouraged  the 
ridustry.  In 
ben  Rutland 
hen  the  Rev. 
le  was  taken 
ancis.  This 
customsi  and 
ode  of  war- 
Lting  soldier, 
sen. 

't  was  taken 
IS*  troops,  a 
IS,  command- 
om  their  den 


in  Canada,  and  made  a  furious  attack  on 
the  fore.  The  battle  lasted  five  days,  and 
every  stratagem  which  French  policy  or 
Indian  malice  could  invent,  was  practiced 
to  reduce  the  garrison.  Sometimes  they 
made  an  onset  by  a  discharge  of  musquet- 
ry,  at  others  they  discharged  fire  arrows, 
which  communicated  fire  to  several  parts 
of  the  fort.  But  these  were  insufficient  to 
daunt  the  courage  of  the  little  band  that 
were  assailed.  Their  next  step  was  to  fill  a 
cart  with  combustibles,  and  roil  it  against 
the  walls,  to  communicate  fire  ;  but  the 
English  kept  up  such  a  brisk  incessant  fire 
that  they  were  defeated  in  the  project.  At 
length  the  Monsieurs,  tired  with  fighting, 
beat  a  parley  ;  two  Indians,  formerly  ac- 
quainted with  Capt.  Stevens,  came  as  nego- 
ciators,  and  wished  to  exchange  some  furs 
for  corn  ;  this  Capt.  Stevens  refused^  but 
oflfered  a  bushel  of  corn  for  each  hostage 
they  would  leave  to  be  exchar^ged,  at  some 
future  day.  These  terms  were  not  com- 
plied with,  and  on  the  fifth  day  the  enemy 
retreated,  at  which  time  the  soldiers  in  the 
garrison  honored  them  with  as  brisk  a  dis- 
charge as  they  could  aflbrd,  to  let  them 
know  that  they  were  neither  disheartened 
nor  exhausted  in  ammunition.  The  garri- 
•on  had  none  killed,  and  only  one,  the  name 
of  Brown,  was  wounded. 

Perhaps  no  place  was  ever  defended  with 


14 


CAPTiVITT    0W 


i 


greater  bravery  than  this  fort  during  thn 
action  ;  30  or  40  men,  when  attacked  by 
500,  must  have  an  uncommon  degree  af  for* 
titude  and  vigilance  to  defend  themselves 
during  a  siege  of  five  days.  But  Capi. 
Stevens  was  equal  to  the  task,  and  will  be 
applauded  by  posterity.  Alter  the  battle 
he  sent  an  express  to  Boston  with  the  tt- 
dings.  Gov.  Charles  Knowles  happened 
then  to  be  at  Boston,  and  rewarded  Capt. 
Stevens  with  a  handsome  sword,  in  grati* 
tude  for  which  the  place  was  afterwards 
called  Charlestown 

In  November  1747,  a  body  of  the  troops 
set  out  from  the  fort,  to  return  to  Massa- 
chusetts ;  they  had  not  proceeded  far  before 
the  Indians  fired  on  them.  Isaac  Goodaie 
and  Nathaniel  Gould  were  killed,  and  one 
Anderson  taken  prisoner.  From  this  peri- 
od until  the  end  of  Cape  Breton  war,  the 
fort  was  defended  by  Capt.  Stevens,  Sol- 
diers passed  and  repassed  to  Canada,  bat  the 
inhabitants  took  sanctuary  in  the  fort,  and 
made  but  little  progress  in  cultivation* — 
During  the  Indian  wars,  which  lasted  till 
the  year  1760,  Charlestown  was  noted  more 
for  its  feats  of  war,  than  a  place  of  rapid 
improvement.  Settlers  thought  it  more 
prudent  to  remain  with  their  friendi^  in 
safety,  than  risk  their  scalps  with  savage 
power.  Since  that  pariod,  it  has  bacome  ft 
flourishing  village,  and  contains  all  that  a 


pi, 


MR8.   JOHNSON. 


15 


during  thn 
attacked  by 
egrce  of  for- 

thcmselves 

But  Capi. 

and  will  be 
r  the  battle 

with  the  ti- 
es happened 
rarded  Capt. 
►rd,  in  grati* 
kS  afterwards 


of  the  troops 
urn  to  Massa- 
led  far  before 
aac  Goodale 
lied,  and  one 
om  this  peri- 
ton  war,  the 
evens.     Sol- 
ada,  bat  the 
the  fort,  and 
ultivation* — 
h  lasted  till 
s  noted  more 
lace  of  rapid 
ght  it  more 
r  friendi?   in 
with  savage 
las  become  a 
ins  all  that  a 


rural  situation  affords  of  the  useful  and  the 
pleasant ;  numerous  farms  and  stately  build- 
mgs  now  flourish,  where  the  savage  roam- 
ed the  forest.  The  prosperity  of  the  town 
was  greatly  promoted  by  the  Rev.  Buckley 
Olcott,  who  was  a  settled  minister  there  a- 
bout  thirty-two  years.  In  the  character  of 
this  good  man  was  combined  the  agreeable 
companion,  the  industrious  citizen,  and  un- 
affected christian.  During  the  whole  of  his 
inistry,  his  solicitude  for  the  happiness  of 
is  parishioners  was  as  conspicuous,  in  the 
enefits  they  received  from  his  assistance, 
s  in  their  sincere  attachment  to  his  person. 
s  a  divine  he  was  pathetic,  devout  and  in- 
tructive,  and  may  with  propriety  be  said 
have 


Shewn  the  path  to  heaveii;  and  led  the  way, 

[e  was  highly  respected  through  life :  in 
[une,  1793,  he  died,  much  lamented. 


REMOVAL  TO  CHARLESTOWN. 

In  May  1749,  we  received  information  of 
le  cessation  of  arms  between  Great  Britain 
id  France.  I  had  then  been  married  about 
sro  years,  and  Mr.  Johnson's  enterprising 
lirit  was  zealous  to  remove  to  Charles- 
iwn  ;  in  June  we  undertook  the  hazard- 
is  and  fatiguing  journey  :  we  arrived  safe 
fche  for%  and  found  five  families,  who  had 


l\ 


[■ 


,f 


i-*-" 


)  ' 


16 


CAFTIVITT    OP 


ventured  so  far  into  the  woods  durinsr  hos- 
tilities.    But   the   gloomy  forest,   and  the 
warlike  appearance  of  the  place,  soon  made 
me  homesick.     Two  or  three  days  after  my 
arrival,  orders  came  from  Massachusetts  io 
withdraw  the  troops  :    government  placed 
confidence  in  the  proffered  peace  of  French- 
men, and  withdrew  even  the  appearance  of 
hostility.     But  French  treachery  and  sav- 
age malice  will  ever  keep  pace  with  each 
other.     iVithot  t  even  the  suspicion  of  dan- 
ger, the  inhabitants  went  about  their  busi- 
ness of  husbandry.     The   day  the  soldiers 
left  the  fort,  Ensign  Obadiah  Sartwell  went 
to  harrow  some  corn,  and  took  Enos  Ste- 
vens, the  fourth  son  of  Phinehas  Stevens, 
Esq.  to  ride   horse  ;    my  father  and  two| 
brothers   were  at   work   in  the  meadow 
early  in  the  afternoon  the  Indians  appeared! 
and  shot  Ensign  Sartwell  and  the  horse,) 
and  took  young  Stevens  a  prisoner.     In  ad-j 
dition  to  this,  my  father  and  brothers  werel 
in  the  meadow,  and  we  supposed  they  mustl 
be   destroyed.      My  husband  was  gone  tO| 
Northfield.     In  the  fort  were  seven  womei 
and  four  men  :  the  anxiety  and  griet  we  ex^ 
perienced  was  tlie  highest  imaginable.    Th( 
next  night  we  dispatched  a  post  to  Boston,, 
to  carry  the  news  of  our  disaster,  but  m; 
father  and  brothers  did  not  return.     The 
next  day  but  one  my  husband  and  five  or  si) 
others  arrived  from  Northfield.     We  kepi 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


17 


(lurinff  hoa- 
st,   and  the 
,  soon  made 
lys  after  my 
achusetts  to 
ment  placed 
e  of  French- 
Dpearance  of 
ery  and  sav- 
;e  with  each 
icion  of  dan- 
at  tlieir  busi- 
the  soldiers 
iartwell  went 
ok  Enos  Ste- 
^has  Stevens, 
her  and  two 
he  meadow  ; 
ians  appeared] 
d  the  horse, 
;oner.    In  ad- 
brothers  were] 
sed  they  must 
was  gone  to] 
seven  women[ 
d  griet  weex- 
ginable.    The, 
ost  to  Boston/ 
aster,  but  m;^ 
return.     TW 
and  five  or  su 
eld.     Wekep 


close  in  the  garrison,  suffering  every  appre- 
hension for  ten  or  twelve  days,  when  the 
sentry  from  the  box  cried  out  that  troops 
were  coming :  joyful  at  the  relief,  we  all 
mounted  on  the  top  of  the  fort,  and  among 
the  rest  discovered  mv  father.  He  on  hear- 
ing  the  guns,  supposed  the  fort  was  destroy- 
ed, left  the  team  in  the  meadow,  and  made 
the  best  of  his  way  to  Norihiield  with  my 
two  brothers.  The  soldiers  were  about  SO 
in  number,  and  headed  by  Major  Josiah  Wil" 
lard,  of  Fort  Dummer.  Enos  Stevens  was 
carried  to  Montreal,  but  the  French  com- 
mander sent  him  back  directly,  by  the  way 
of  Albany.  This  was  the  last  damage  done 
the  frontiers  during  the  Cape  Breton  war. 


.  **a:'     J*'  ';••■  • 


CURSORY  NOTICES. 

A  detail  of  the  miseries  of  a  "  frontier 
man,"  must  excite  the  pity  of  every  child 
of  humanity.  The  gloominess  of  the  rude 
forest,  the  distance  from  friends  and  com- 
petent defence,  and  the  daily  inroads  and 
nocturnal  yells  of  liostile  Indians,  awal^en 
those  keen  apprehensions  and  anxieties  which 
conception  only  can  [)icUire.  If  tlie  peace- 
ful employment  of  husbandry'^is  pursued, 
the  loaded  musket  must  stand  by  his  side  ; 
if  he  visits  a  neighbor,  or  resorts  on  Sun- 
days to  the  sacred  house  of  prayer,  theweap- 


p. 


I 


hi 


a? 


■^1    ■■■ 


16 


CAPTIVITY  OP 


on»  of  war  must  bear  him  company  ;    at 
home,  the  distresses  of  a  wife,  and  the  fears 
of  lisping  children  ofen  unman  the  soul  that 
real  danger  assailed  in  vain.     Those  who 
can  recollect  the  war  that  existed  between 
France  and  England  filty  years  ago,  may 
figure  to  themselves  the  unhappy  situation 
of  the  inhabitants  on  the  fronfiers  of  New- 
Hampshire  ;    the  malice  of  the  French  in 
Canada,  and   the  exasperated   savages  that 
dwelt  in  their  vicinity,  rendered  the  tedi- 
ous days  and  frightful  nights  a  season  of  un- 
equalled   calamities.     The  ihiily  reports  of 
captured  families  and  slau<j;htered  friends, 
mingled  grief  with  fear.     Had  there  been 
an  organized   government,  to  stretch  forth 
its  protecting  arm,   in  any  case  of  danger, 
the  misery  might  have  been  in  a  degree  al- 
leviated.     But  the   infancy  of  our  country 
did  not  admit  of  this  blessing.    While  Gov. 
ernor   Stiirley  of  Massachusetts,    was  peti- 
tioning to  England  for  a  Heel  and  an  army, 
Benning  Went  worth  the  suj)ine  gov^ernor  of 
New-Hampi«^hire,  obeyed  implicitly  the  ad- 
vice of  his    friend    Shirley,   and    remained 
inactively  secure  at  his  scat  at  Portsmouth.  I 
At  tlie  cominenceuient  of  the  year  1745,  the  f 
Quixotic  expedition  to  Lonishtirg  was  pro- 
jei'ted,  the  successof  vvhich  originated  from 
the  merest  accident,  rather  than  from  mili- 
tary valor  or  generalship  ;  thi>  drained  the 
thinly  inhabited  state  of  New-Hamp.^hire  of 


Mns.    JOHNSON. 


19 


nfipany  ;    at 
iiul  the  fears 
the  soul  that 
Those  who 
steel  between 
irs  ago,  may 
)py  situation 
lers  of  New- 
le  French  in 
savages  that 
reel  the  tedi- 
season  of  un- 
ity reports  of 
erecl  friends, 
d  there  been 
stretch  forth 
se  of  danger, 
[\  a  degree  al- 
'  our  country 
While  Gov. 
ts,    was  peti- 
\nd  an  army, 
e  cTovernor  of 
icitly  the  ad- 
md    remained 
Portsmouth, 
ear  1745,  the 
)Mrg  was  pro- 
igiuatedlrom 

lan  from  mili- 
is  drained  the 
Uamp^^hire  of  I 


most  of  its  effective  men.     From  that  peri- 
od till  the   peace,   which  took  place  in  the 
year  1749,  the  visionary  schemes  of  Shir- 
ley kept  the  best  soldiers  emboilied  in  some 
remote  place,  as  a  force  to  execute  some  im- 
politic project.     The    conquest  of  Canada, 
and  the  attack  upon  Crown-point,   are  re- 
corded as  specimens  of  the   wild  projects 
which  were  to  employ  the  infant  forces  of 
New-England.     During  this  time,  the  fron- 
tiers sustained  additional  miseries,  by  hav- 
ing the   smidl  forces  of  the  state  deducted 
for  purposes  which  could  be  of  no  immedir 
ate  service  to  them.     The  savages  commit- 
ted frequent  depredations  on  the  defenceless 
inhabitants,  and  the  ease  with  which  they 
gained   their  prey,  encouraii;ed  their  bold- 
ness, and  by  scattering  in  small  parties,  they 
were  able  to  infest   the  wiiole   Irontier  of 
New-Hauipsiiire,    from    fort    Dummer    on 
Connecticut  river,  to  the  lowe;;t  settlement 
on  Merrimack,     Durino^  this  war,  which  is 
known  by  the  name  of  Cape  Breton  war,  the 
town  of  No.  4  coidd  ha»'dlv  be  said  to  be  in- 
habited  ;  some  adventurers  had  made  a  be- 
ginninSi  but  few  were  considered  as  belong- 
ing to  the  town.     Capt.  Stevens,  wh(seviu- 
or  is  recorded  as  an  instance  of  consummate 
generalsiiip,  part  of  the  time  kept  the   fort, 
which  afforded  a  shelter  to  trie  enterprizing 
settlers  in  times  of  emminent  dan<ier.     But 
even  his  vii:[ildnce  did  not  i^ave  the  town 


Hi 


>''■: 


^m 


20 


CAPTITITT    OP 


i 


from  numerous  scenes  of  carnage.  At  the 
commencement  of  the  oeace,  in  1749,  tlie  en- 
terprising spirit  of  Nc  England  rose  supe- 
rior to  the  dangers  of  tiie  forest,  and  they 
began  to  venture  innovation.  The  Indians, 
still  thirsty  for  plunder  and  rapine,  and  re- 
gardless of  the  peace  which  their  masters  the 
^  French,  had  concluded,  kept  up  a  flying 
'  warfare,  and  committed  severel  outrages  up- 
on lives  and  property;  this  kept  the  increas- 
ing inhabitants  in  a  state  of  alarm;  for  three 
or  four  years  ;  most  of  the  time  they  per- 
formed their  daily  work  without  molesta- 
tion, but  retreatded  to  the  fort  each  return- 
ing night. 

Our  country  has  so  long  been  exposed  to 
Indian  wars,  that  recitals  of  exploits  and  suf- 
ferings, of  escapes  and  deliverances,  have  be- 
come both  numerous  and  trite.  The  air  of 
novelty  will  not  be  attempted  in  the  follow- 
ing pages ;  simple  facts,  unadorn3d,  is  what 
the  reader  must  expect  ;  pity  for  my  suffer- 
ings, and  admiration  at  my  safe  return,  is  all 
that  my  history  can  excite.  The  aged  man, 
while  perusihg;  will  prob?ibly  turn  his  atten- 
tion to  the  period  when  the  facts  took  place, 
his  memory  will  be  refre-hed  with  sad  ti- 
dings of  his  sufferings,  which  gave  a  daily 
wound  to  his  leelings,  between  the  years 
1740  and  1760;  by  contrasting  those  days 
with  the  present,  he  may  rejoice  that  he 
witnesses  those  times    vrhich    many  have 


MRS.  JOHNSON. 


21 


<' waited  for,  but^died  without  a  sight." 
Those  "  in  early  life,"  while  ihey  commis- 
t>rate  the  sufferings  which  their  parents  and 
ancestors  endured,  may  felicitate  themselves 
that  their  lines  fell  in  a  land  of  peace,  where 
neither  savages  nor  neighboring  wars  molest 
their  happiness. 


1 


C  H  A  P  .  I . 

SITUATION  UNTIL  AUGUST  31,  1764. 

Some  of  the  Soldiers  who  arrived  with 
Major  Willard,  with  the  inhabitants  who 
hore  arms,  were  commanded  by  Capt.  Ste- 
vens the  rest  of  the  year  1749,  and  part  of 
the  foilovving"  spring  ;  after  which  the  in- 
habitants resided  pretty  much  in  the  fort, 
until  the  spring  or  fall  of  the  year  1752. — 
They  cultivaied  their  lands  in  some  degree, 
Dui  they  put  but  little  confidence  in  the 
savages. 

The  continuation  of  peace  began  by  de- 
grees to  appease  the  resentment  of  the  In- 
dians, and  tney  appeared  to  discover  a  wish 
for  friendly  intercourse.  The  inhabitants 
in  No.  4,  and  its  vicinity,  relaxed  their 
watchfulness,  and  ventured  more  boldly  in- 
to their  fields.  Every  appearance  of  hos- 
tility at  length  vanished — the  Indians  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  trafic^  the  inhabitants  laid 


•■ 


fr 


■  I' a 


Y  / 


I 


1   1 


2S 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


by  their  fears,  and  thought  no  more  of  tom- 
ahawks, nor  scalpinij-knives.  Mr.  Johnson 
now  thought  himself  justified  in  removing 
to  his  farm,  an  hundred  rods  distant  from 
the  fort,  which  was  then  the  uppermost  set- 
tlement on  Connecticut  River,  he  pursued 
his  occupation  of  trade,  and  the  Indians 
made  frequent  visits  to  trafic  their  furs  for 
his  mercliandize.  He  frequently  credited 
them  for  blankets  and  other  necessaries,  and 
in  most  instances  they  were  punctual  in 
payment.  During  the  year  1753,  all  was 
harmony  and  safety — settlements  increased 
with  tolerable  rapidity,  and  the  new  coun- 
try began  to  assume  the  appearance  of  cul- 
tivation. 

Tlie  commencement  of  the  year  1754  be- 
gan  to  threaten  another  rupture  between  the 
French  and  English,  and  as  the  dividing 
line  between  Canada  and  the  English  Colo- 
nies was  the  object  of  contention,  it  was 
readily  seen  that  the  frontier  towns  would 
be  in  imminent  danger.  But  as  immediate 
war  was  not  expected,  Mr.  Johnson  thought 
that  he  mi^lit  risk  the  safetv  of  his  family, 
while  he  made  a  tour  to  Connecticut,  for 
trade.  He  sat  out  the  last  of  May,  and  hi& 
absence  of  three  months  was  a  tedious  and 
a  bitter  season  to  me.  Soon  after  his  de- 
parture every  body  was  ''tremblingly  alive" 
with  fear.  The  Indians  were  reported  to 
be  on  their  inarch  for  our  destruction,  and 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


23 


lore  af  tom- 
Ir.  Johnson 
n  removing 
listant  from 
permost  set- 
he  pursued 
tlie  Indians 
heir  furs  for 
tly  credited 
gssaries,  and 
punctual  in 
753,  all  was 
its  increased 
e  new  coun- 
ance  of  cul- 

ear  1754  be« 
between  the 
he  dividing 
nglish  Colo- 
tion,  it  was 
owns  would 
LS  immediate 
ison  thought 
f  his  family, 
mecticut,  for 
May,  and  his 
tedious  and 
after  his  de- 
ilingly  alive" 
J  reported  to 
traction,  and 


our  distance  from  sources  of  information 
gave  full  latitude  for  exaggeration  of  news, 
before  it  reached  our  ears.  The  fears  of 
the  night  were  horrible  beyond  description 
and  even  tlie  light  of  day  was  far  from  dis- 
pelling painful  anxiety.  While  looking  from 
the  windows  of  my  log-house,  and  seeing 
my  neiglibors  tread  cautiously  by  each  hedge 
and  hillock,  lest  some  secreted  savage  might 
start  forth  to  take  their  scalp,  my  fears 
would  baffle  description.  Alarmsgrew  loud- 
er, till  our  apprehensions  were  too  strong- 
ly confirmed  by  the  news  of  tiie  capture  of 
Mr.  Malloon's  family,  on  Merrimack  Riv- 
cr  ;  this  reached  us  about  the  20th  of  Au- 
gust. Imagination  now  saw  and  heard  a 
thousand  Indians  ;  and  I  never  went  round 
my  own  house,  without  first  looking  with 
trembling  caution  by  each  corner,  to  see  if 
a  tomahawk  was  not  raised  for  mv  destruc- 
tion. 

On  the  24th  of  August  I  was  relieved  from 
all  my  fears  by  the  arrival  of  my  husband. 
He  brought  intelligence  from  Connecticut 
that  a  war  was  expected  the  next  spring, 
but  that  no  immediate  danger  was  contem- 
plated. He  had  made  preparations  to  re- 
move to  Northfield,  as  soon  as  our  stock  of 
hay  was  consumed,  and  our  dozen  of  swine 
had  demolished  our  ample  stores  of  grain, 
which  would  secure  his  family  and  proper- 
ty from  the  miseries  and  ravages  of  war. — 


If 


X-,\ 


ispsstm 


1 


i 


u  ; 


24 


CAPTIVITT   or 


Oar  eldest  son,  Sylvanus,  who  was  six  years 
old,  was  in  the  mean  time  to  be  put  to  school 
at  Springfield.  Mr.  Johnson  brought  home 
a  large  addition  to  his  stores,  and  the  neigh- 
bors made  frequent  parties  at  our  house,~to 
express  their  joy  for  his  return,  and  time 
passed  merily  off,  by  the  aid  of  spirit  and 
a  ripe  yard  of  melons.  As  I  was  in  the  last 
days  of  pregnancy,  I  could  not  join  so  heart- 
ily in  their  good  cheer  as  I  otherwise  might. 
Yet  in  a  new  country,  pleasure  is  often  de- 
rived from  sources  unknown  to  those  less 
accustomed  to  the  woods.  The  return  of 
my  husband,  the  relief  from  danger,  and 
the  crowds  of  happy  friends,  combined  to 
render  my  situation  peculiarly  agreeable. 
I  now  boasted  with  exultation,  that  I  should, 
with  husband,  friends  and  luxuries,  live 
happy  in  spite  of  the  fear  of  savages. 

On  the  evening  of  the  29th  of  August  our 
house  was  visited  by  a  party  of  neighbors, 
who  spent  the  time  very  cheerfully  with 
watermellons  and  flip,  till  midnight ;  they 
all  then  retired  in  high  spirits,  except  a 
spruce  young  spark,  who  tarried  to  keep 
company  with  my  sister.  We  then  went  to 
bed  with  feelings  well  tuned  for  sleep,  and 
rested  with  fine  composure,  till  midway  be- 
tween daybreak  and  sunrise,  when  we  were 
roused  by  neighbor  Larrabee's  knocking  at 
the  door,  who  had  shouldered  his  ax  to  do 
a  day's  work  for  my  husband.     Mr.  John- 


':»;^;s 


•i'%' 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


25 


0  was  SIX  vears? 
e  put  ta  school 
brought  home 
and  the  neigh- 
;  our  house,  to 
turn,  and  tmie 
i  of  spirit  and 
was  in  the  last 
t  join  so  heart- 
lerwise  miglit. 
ire  is  often  de- 

1  to  those  less 
The  return  of 
1  danger,  and 
,  combined  to 
rly  agreeable. 
,  that  I  should, 
luxuries,  live 
savages. 

of  August  our 
of  neighbors, 
heerfully  with 
idnight ;  they 
irits,  except  a 
irried  to  keep 
e  then  went  to 
for  sleep,  and 
ill  midway  be- 
when  we  were 
's  knocking  at 
id  his  ax  to  do 
d.    Mr.  John- 


ieon  flipped  on  his  jacket  and  trowsers,  and 
stepped  to  the  door  to  let  him  in.  But  by 
k)pening  iho  door  he  opened  a  scene — terri- 
ble to  describe  !  !  Indians  '  Indians  were 
;the  first  words  I  heard,  he  sprang  to  his 
0uns,  but  Larrabee,  heedleess  of  danger,  in- 
jstead  of  closing  the  door  to  keep  them  out, 
jbegan  to  rally  our  hired  men  up  stairs,  for 
|iot  rising  earlier.  But  in  an  instant  a  crowd 
)f  savages,  fixed  horribly  for  war,  rushed 
luriouLly  in.  I  screamed  and  begged  my 
friends  to  ask  for  quarter  ;  by  this  time 
:hey  were  all  over  the  house;  some  upstairs, 
jome  hauling  my  sister  out  of  bed,  another 
iad  hold  of  me,  and  one  was  approaching 
^Ir.  Johnson,  who  stood  in  the, middle  of 
the  floor  to  deliver  himself  up  ;  but  the  In- 
ilian,  supposinir  that  he  would  make  resist- 
mce,  and  be  more  than  i*is  match,  went  to 
;he  door  and  brought  three  of  his  comrades, 
md  the  four  hound  him.  I  was  led  to  the 
loor,  fainting  and  trembling  ;  there  stood 
ly  friend  Larabee,  bound;  Ebenezer  Farns- 
vorth,  whom  they  found  up  chamber,  they 
vere  putting  in  the  same  situation,  and  to 
complete  the  shocking  scene,  my  three  lit- 
tle children  were  driven  naked  to  the  place 
tvhere  I  stood.  On  viewing  mysell  I  found 
that  I  too  was  naked.  An  Indian  had  plun- 
iered  three  gowns,  who,  on  seeing  my  situ- 
ttion,  gave  me  the  whole.  I  asked  another 
>r  a  petticoat,  but  he  refused  it.    After 


jiJ 


■* 


f 


:  '"• ' 


II  r 


!| 


26 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


what  little  plunder  their  hnrry  would  allow^he 
them  to  get,  was  confusedly  bundled  up,  we  l)f  1 
were  ordered  to  march.  After  going  about^ha 
20  rods  we  fell  behind  a  rising  ground, llVh 
where  we  halted  to  pack  the  things  in  a  bet- 
ter manner  ;  while  there,  a  sava^je  went 
back  as  we  supposed  to  fire  the  buildings. 
Farnsworth  proposed  to  my  husband  to  goi, 
back  with  him,  to  get  a  quantity  of  pork 
from  the  cellar,  to  help  us  on  our  journey  ; 
but  Mr.  Johnson  prudently  replied,  that  by 
that  means,  the  Indians  miglit  find  the  rum, 
and  in  a  fit  of  intoxication  kill  us  all.  The 
Indian  presently  returned  with  marks  of 
fear  in  his  countenance,  and  we  were  hur- 
ried on  with  all  violence.  This,  as  we  af- 
terwards found,  was  occasioned  bv  his  meet- 
ing  Mr.  Osmer  at  the  door  of  the  house, 
who  lodged  in  the  chamber,  and  had  secre- 
ted him:?elf  behind  a  box,  and  was  then  ma-lthe 
king  his  escape.  He  run  directly  to  thelwe 
fort,  and  the  alarm  guns  were  fired,  Mvjhoi 
father,  Mr.  Moses  Willard,  was  then  secondlnai 
in  command.  CajU.  Stevens  was  for  sally-lStc 
ing  out  with  a  party  for  our  relief;  but  my|ten 
fathei  begged  him  !o  desist,  as  the  IndianjiMr 
made  it  an  invariable  practice  to  kill  theirito 
prisoners  when  attacked.  Two  savages  laidlsw 
hold  of  each  of  mv  arms,  and  hurried  m 
through  thornv  thickets  in  a  most  unmcrci 
ful  manner.  I  lost  a  shoe  and  suffered  ei 
cccdingly.     We  heard  the  alarm  guns  fro 


am 
er^ 
up 
Jul 
o\ 

y 

nd 
ist 

es' 

OSi 

yi 

he 

OS 

a^ 
of 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


»« 


f  would  allow 
mcUed  up,  we 
T  going  about^ 
ising  ground,; 
hings  in  a  bet-; 

savage  went 
the  buildings, 
lusband  to  gO' 
ntity  of  pork 

our  journey  ; 
^plied,  that  by 
I  find  the  rum, 
1  us  all.  The 
ith  marks  of 
we  were  hur- 
.  his,  as  we  af- 
?d  hv  his  meet-j 

of  the  house,j 
and  had  secre- 
1  was  then  ma 
lirectly   to  the 
sre  fired,     M\1 
as  then  secon 
;  was  for  sallv 
relief;  but  my 
as  tlie  Indian: 
e  to  kill  thei 
wo  savages  laii 
id   hurried  m< 
most  unmcrci 
nd  suffered  ei 
irm  guns  fro 


the  fort.  This  added  new  speed  to  the  flight  ^ 
>f  the  savages.  They  were  apprehensive 
that  soldiers  might  be  sent  for  our  relief.- — 
hen  we  had  got  a  mile  and  a  half,  my 
faintness  obliged  me  to  sit.  This  being  ob- 
lerved  by  an  Indian,  he  drew  his  knife,  as  I 
lupposed,  to  put  an  end  to  my  existence.— 
ut  he  only  cut  some  band,  with  which  my 
gown  was  tied,  and  then  pushed  me  on.-— 
^y  little  children  were  cryino^,  my  husband 
and  the  other  two  men  were  bound,  and  my 
sister  and  myself  were  obliged  to  make  the 
l)est  of  our  way,  with  all  our  might.  The 
;loss  of  my  shoe  rendered  travelling  extreme- 
ly painful.  At  the  distance  of  three  miles 
here  was  a  general  halt ;  the  savages,  Siip- 
osing  that  we,  as  well  as  themselves,  might 
ave  an  appetite  for  braakfast,  gave  us  a  loaf 
[of  bread,  some  raisins  and  apples,  which 
:hev  had  taken  from  the  house.  Whih  we 
ere  forcmg  down  our  scanty  breakfast,  a 
[horse  came  in  sight,  known  to  us  all  by  the 
name  of  Scoggin,  belonging  to  Phinehas 
Stevens,  Esquire.  One  of  the  Indians  at- 
tempted to  shoot  him,  but  was  prevented  by 
Mr.  Johnson.  They  then  expressed  a  wish 
[to  catch  him,  saying,  by  poiniing  to  me,  for 
iwaw  to  ride  ;  my  husband  had  previously 
[been  unbound  to  assist  the  children,  he^ 
ith  two  Indians,  caught  the  horse  on  the 
[banks  of  the  river.  By  this  time  my  legs 
md  feet   were  covered  with  blood,  which 


-/■ 


i 


CAPTIVITT    OP 

being  noticed  by  Mr.  Larrabee,  he,  with 
that  humanity  which  never  forsook  him, 
took  his  own  stockings  and  presented  them 
to  me,  and  the  Indians  gave  me  a  pair  of 
moccasons.  Bags  and  blankets  were  thrown 
over  scoggin,  and  I  mounted  on  the  top  of 
them,  and  on  we  jogged  about  seven  miles, 
to  the  upper  end  of  Wilcott's  Island,  We 
there  halted  and,  prepared  to  cross  the  riv- 
er ;  rafts  were  made  of  dry  limber — two  In- 
dians  and  Farnsworth  crossed  first,  Labar- 
ree,  by  signs,  got  permission  to  swim  the 
horse,  and  Mr.  Johnson  was  allowed  to 
S'vim  by  the  raft  that  1  was  on,  to  push  it 
along.  We  all  arrived  safe  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river,  about  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon ;  a  fire  was  kindled,  and  some  of  their 
stolen  kettles  were  hung  over  it,  and  filled 
with  porridge.  The  savages  took  delight 
in  viewinoj  their  spoil,  which  amounted  to 
forty  or  fifty  pounds  in  value.  They  then, 
with  a  true  savage  yell,  gave  the  war  whoop, 
and  bid  defiance  to  danger.  As  our  tarry  in 
this  place  lasted  an  hour,  I  had  time  to  re- 
flect on  our  miserable  condition.  Captives, 
in  the  power  of  unmerciful  savages,  with- 
out provision,  and  almost  without  clothes, 
in  a  wilderness  where  we  must  sojourn  as 
long  as  the  children  of  Israel  did,  for  ought 
we  knew,  and  what  added  to  our  distress, 
not  one  of  our  savage  masters  could  under- 
stand a  word  of  English.     Here,  after  be- 


MRS.    JOHNSOM. 


29 


ing  hurried  from  home  with  such  rapidity, 
'  have  leisure  to  inlorm  the  reader  respect- 
ing our  Indian  masters.  They  were  eleven 
in  number,  men  of  middle  age,  except  one, 

youth  of  sixteen,  who  in  our  journey  dis- 
lovered  a  very  mischievous  and  trouble- 
;ome  disposition..  Mr.  Labarree  is  very 
lositive,  and  1  think  Mr.  Johnson  was  of 
;he  same  opinion,  that  seventeen  Indians  at- 
tacked the  house  ;  the  other  six  might  have 
►een  a  scouting  party,  that  watched  till  we 

rere  out  of  danger  and  then  took  another 
'oute.  ^ 

According  to  their  national  practice,  he 

'ho  first  laid  hands  on  a  prisoner,  consid- 
ered him  as  his  property.     My  master,  who 

^as  the  one  that  took  my  hand  when  I  sat 
in  the  bed,  was  as  clever  an  Indian  as  I  ev- 
er saw  ;  he  e  ven  evinced,  at  numerous  times 
disposition  that   shewed   he  was   by  no 

leans  void  of  compassion.  The  four,  who 
ook  my  husband,  claimed  him  as  their  prop- 
Tty,  and  my  sister,  three  children^  Labar- 
ree and  Farnsworth,  had  each  a  master. — 
hen  the  time  came  for  us  to  prepare  to 

larch,  I  almost  expired  at  the  thought. — 

'o  leave  my  a<>e(l  parents,  brothers,  sisters 
Lud  friends,  and  travel  with  savages  through 

dismal  forest  to  unknown  regions,  in  the 
ilarming  situation  I  then  was  in,  with  three 
imall   children,  tlie  eldest,   Sylvanus,  who 

as  but  six  years  old.     My  eldest  daughter, 


i!^  '■ 


30 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


Susanna,  was  four,  and  Polly,  the  other, 
two.  My  sister  Miriam  was  fourteen.  My 
husband  was  barefoot,  and  otherwise  thinly 
clothed  ;  his  master  had  taken  his  jacket, 
and  nothin^T  but  his  shirt  and  trowsers  re- 
mained. Mv  two  daughters  had  nothing 
but  their  shifts,  and  I  only  the  gown  that 
was  handed  me  by  the  savages.  In  addition 
to  the  sufferings  which  arose  from  my  own 
deplorable  condition,  I  could  not  but  feel 
for  my  friend  Labarree  ;  he  had  left  a  wife 
and  four  small  children  behind,  to  lament 
his  loss,  and  to  render  his  situation  extreme- 
ly unhappy.  With  all  these  misfortunes 
lying  heavily  upon  me,  the  reader  can  ima- 
gine my  situation.  The  Indians  pronounced 
the  dreadful  word  ''munch,"  march,  and 
on  we  miist  go.  I  was  put  on  the  horse, 
Mr.  Johnson  took  one  daughter,  and  Mr. 
Labarree,  beinu'  unbound,  took  the  other  ; 
we  went  six  or  eight  miles  and  stopped  for 
the  night.  The  men  were  made  secure,  by 
havinor  their  legs  put  in  split  sticks,  some- 
what like  stocks,  and  tied  with  cords  which 
were  tif^l  lo  the  limbs  uf  trees  too  hicrh  to 
be  readied  My  sister,  much  lo  her  morti- 
fication, must  lie  between  two  Indians,  with 
a  cord  thrown  over  her,  and  passing  under 
^cach  of  thciU  ;  the  little  chilJren  had  blank- 
ets, and  I  was  allowed  one  for  my  use.  Thus 
we  took  lodiiing  for  the  night,  with  the  sky 
for  a  covering  and  the  ground  for  a  pillow. 


t.\ 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


31 


The  fatisues  of  the  preceding  day  obliged 
me  to  sleep  several  hours,  in  spite  of  the 
horrors  which  surrounded  me.  The  Indians 
observed  ^reat  silence,  and  never  spoke  but 
when  really  necessary,  and  all  the  prisoners 
were  di^posed  to  say  but  little  ;  my  children 
were  much  more  peaceable  than  could  be 
imagiiicd,  gloomy  fear  imposed  a  deadly 
silence. 


J: 


CHAP.  11. 

History  of  our  journey  through  the  wilderness,  till  we  came 
to  the  waters  that  enter  into  Lake  Champlain. 

In  the  morning  we  were  roused  before 
sunrise,  the  Indians  struck  up  a  fire,  hung  on 
their  stolen  kettles,  and  made  us  some  wa- 
ter gruel  for  breakfast.  After  a  few  sips  of 
this  meagre  fare,  I  was  again  put  on  the 
horse,  with  my  husbnnd  by  my  side,  to  hold 
me  on.  My  twp  fellow  prisoners  took  the 
liltle  girls,  and  we  marched  sorrowfully  on 
for  an  hour  cr  two,  when  a  keener  distress 
was  added  to  my  multiplied  afflictions  ; — I 
was  taken  with  tlie  pangs  of  child-birth. — 
The  Indians  sio-nified  to  us  that  we  must  20 
on  to  a  brook.  When  we  ^ot  there,  they 
shewed  some  humanity,  by  makiuij  a  booth 
for  me  Here  the  compassionate  reader  will 
drop  a  fressh  tear,  for  my  inexpressible  dis- 
tress ;  filteen  or  twenty  miles  from  the  abodt 


I 


33 


CAPTIVITY    OP 


ill: 


of  any  civilized  being,  in  the  open  wilder- 
ness, rendered  cold  by  a  rainy  day — in  one 
of  the  most  perilous  hours,  and  nnsupplied 
with  the  least  necessary,  that  could  yield 
convenience  in  the  hazardous  moment.  My 
children  were  crying  at  a  distance,  where 
they  were  held  by  their  masters,  and  o.^ly 
my  husband  and  sister  to  attend  me  :  none 
but  mothers  can  figure  to  themselves  my 
unhappy  situation.  The  Indians  kept  aloof 
the  whole  time.  About  ten  o'clock adaugh- 
ter  was  born.  They  then  brought  me  some 
articles  of  clothing  for  the  child,  which 
they  had  taken  from  the  house.  My  master 
looked  into  the  booth,  and  clapped  his 
hands  with  joy,  crying  two  monies  for  me, 
two  monies  for  me.  1  was  permitted  to  rest 
the  remainder  of  the  day.  The  Indians 
were  employed  in  making  a  bier  for  the 
prisoners  lo  carry  me  on,  and  another  booth 
for  my  lodging  during  night.  They  brought 
a  needle  and  two  pins,  and  some  barke  to 
tie  the  child's  clothes,  which  they  gave  my 
sister,  and  a  large  wooden  spoon  to  feed  it 
with  ;  at  dusk  they  made  some  porridge, 
and  brought  a  cup  to  steep  some  roots  in, 
which  Mr.  Labaree  had  provided.  In  the 
evening  I  was  removed  to  the  new  booth. 
For  supper,  they  made  more  porridge  and 
some  johnny  cakes.  My  portion  was  brought 
me  in  a  little  bark.  I  slept  that  night  far 
beyond  expectation. 


MRS.  JOHNSON. 


3$ 


1  wilder- 
— in  one 
isiipplied 
Lild  yield 
mt.     My 
e,  where 
and  o.^ly 
ne  :  none 
elves  my 
;ept  aloof 
iadaugh- 
:  me  some 
l1,  which 
iy  master 
pped  his 
IS  for  me, 
ed  to  rest 
Indians 
r  for  the 
her  booth 
brought 
barke  to 
gave  my 
to  feed  it 
porridge, 
roots  in, 
In  the 
w  booth, 
ridge  and 
s  brought 
night  far 


In  the  morning  we  were  summoned  for 
the  journey,  after  the  usual  breakfast,  of^ 
meal  and  water.  I,  with  my  infant  in  my 
arms  was  laid  on  the  litter,  which  was  sup- 
ported alternately  by  Mr.  Johnson,  Labar- 
ree  and  Farnsworth.  My  sister  and  sou 
were  jmt  upon  Scoggin,  and  the  two  little 
girls  rode  on  their  master's  backs.  Thus 
we  proceeded  two  miles,  when  my  carriers 
grew  too  faint  to  proceed  any  further. — 
This  beinjj  observed  by  our  sable  masters, 
a  general  halt  was  called,  and  they  embod- 
ied themselves  lor  council.  My  master  soon 
made  signs  to  Mr.  Johnson,  that  if  I  could 
ride  on  the  horse  1  might  proceed  other- 
wise 1  miifet  l>c  left  behind.  Here  I  observed 
marks  o(  pity  in  his  countenance,  but  this 
might  arise  from  the  fear  of  lo^sing  his  two 
monies.  I  preferred  an  attempt  lo  ride  on 
the  hor.'^e,  rather  than  to  j)erish  miserablj 
alone.  Mr.  Lt^barree  took  the  infant,  and 
every  ^\e\)  of  the  horse  almo>t  deprived  me 
of  lile.  My  weak  and  hel|)less  condition 
rendered  me,  in  a  degree*,  insensible  to  ev- 
ery thiii^r ;  my  poor  child  couhl  have  no 
sustenance  from  my  breast,  and  was  sup- 
ported entirely  l>y  water  gruel.  My  other 
little  (  biblren,  rendered  peevish  by  an  un« 
easy  mode  of  ri  in^,  often  hnr>t  into  cries, 
but  a  sm  ly  I  heck  Irom  their  masters  soon 
silciueil  them.  We  proceeded  on  with  a  ' 
«low,  mo arnful  pace.     My  weakness  was  too 


i 


a 


CAPTiTiir  or 


i 


I  iM 


.^i'. 


severe  to  allow  me  to  sit  on  the  horse  long 
at  a  time  ;  every  hour  I  was  taken  off,  and 
laid  on  the  ground  to  rest.  This  preserved 
my  life  during  the  third  clay.  At  night  we 
found  ourselves  at  the  head  of  Black  River 
Pond.  Here  we  prepared  to  spend  the 
night,  our  supper  consisted  of  gruel  and  the 
broth  of  a  Lawk,  they  had  killed  the  pre- 
ceding day.  The  prisoners  were  secured, 
as  usual,  a  booth  was  made  for  me,  and  all 
went  to  rest.  After  encampment,  we  enter- 
ed into  a  shore  conversation.  My  sister 
observed,  that  if  I  could  have  been  left  be- 
hind, our  trouble  would  have  been  seem- 
ingly nothing.  My  husband  hoped,  by  the 
assistance  of  providence,  we  should  all  be 
preserved.  Mr.  Labarree  pitied  his  pobr 
family — and  Fa»'nsworth  summed  the  whole 
of  his  wishes,  by  saying,  that  if  he  could 
have  got  a  layer  of  pork  from  the  cellar,  we 
should  not  be  in  fear  of  starvation.  The 
night  was  uncommonly  dark,  and  passed 
tediouslv  off. 

In  ihe  morning,  half  chilled  with  a  cold 
fog,  we  were  ordered  from  our  places  of 
rest,  were  offered  the  lean  fare  of  meal  and 
water,  and  then  j)repared  for  the  journey  ; 
every  thing  resembled  a  funeral  procession. 
The  savages  preserved  their  gloomy  sad- 
ness— the  prisoners,  bowed  down  with  grief 
and  fatigue,  felt  little  disposition  to  talk  ; 
and  the  unevenness  of  the  country,  some- 


X 


MRS.  JOHNSOn. 


98 


se  long 
off,  and 
eserved 
ight  we 
k  River 
jnd  the 
and  the 
the  pre- 
secured, 
,  and  all 
ve  enter- 
[y  sister 
i  left  be- 
,n  seem- 
l,  by  the 
Id  all  be 
lis  pot)r 
le  whole 
Ihe  could 
ellar,  we 
n.  The 
Id  passed 

Ith  a  cold 
places  of 

lineal  and 

Ijoiiniey  ; 
o  cession. 

joiny  sad- 

/ith  s»'i^f 

to  talk  ; 

\y,  some- 


tunes  lying  in  miry  plains,  at  others  rising 
into  steep  and  broken   hills,  rendered   aur 
passage  hazardous  and  painful.     Mr.  Lab- 
arree  kept  the  infant  in  his  arms,  and  pre- 
served its  life.     The  fifth  clay's  journey  was 
an  unvaried  scene  of  latigue.     The  Indians 
sent  out  two  or  three  hunting  parties,  who 
returned  without  rame.     As  we  had  in  the 
morning  consumed  the  last  morsel  of  our 
meal,  every  one  now  began  to  be  seriously 
alarmed  ;  and  hunger,  with  all  its  horrors 
looked  us  earnestly  in  the  face.     At  night, 
we  found  the  waters  that  run  into  Lake 
Champlain,  which  was  over  the  height  of 
land  ;  before  dark  we    halted,  and  the  In- 
dians, by  the  help  of  their  punk,  which  they 
carried  in  horns,   made  a  fire.     They  soon 
adopted  a  plan   to  relieve   their  hunger. — 
The  horse  was  shot,  and  his  flesh  was  in  a 
few  moinerits  broiling  on  embers,  and  they, 
with  native  gluttony  ^  satiated  their  cravmg 
appetites.     To  use  the  term  politeness,  in 
the    management    of    this    repast,    may    be 
thought  a  burlesque,    yet  their  offering  the 
prisoners  the  best  parts  of  the  horse,  cer- 
tainly bordered  on  civility;  an  epici  re  could 
not  have  cartered   nicer  slices,  nor  in  that 
«ituatioa  served  them   up  with   more  ueat- 
ness.     Appetite  is  said  to  be  the  best  sauce, 
yet  our.  abundance  of  it  did  not  render  sa- 
vory this  novel  steak.     My  children,  how- 
ever, eat  too  much,  which  made  them  very 


, 


I 


\  1 


rPfi 


y  1.^  ] 


,1 


*-' 


S6 


CAPTIYITT  or 


I      ill 


III     i  > 


s     I 


■V 


unwel  for  a  number  of  days.  Broth  wai 
made  for  me  and  my  child  which  was  ren- 
dered almost  a  luxury  by  the  seasoning  of 
roots.  After  supper,  countenances  began  to 
brighten  ;  those  who  had  relished  the  meal 
exhibited  new  strengtii,  and  those  who  had 
only  snuffed  its  effluvia,  confessed  them- 
selves regaled  ;  the  evening  was  employed 
in  drying  and  smoking  what  lemained,  for 
future  u^e.  The  night  was  a  scene  of  dis- 
tressing fears  to  me,  and  my  extreme  weak- 
ness had  affected  my  mind  to  such  a  degree, 
that  every  difficulty  appeared  doubly  terri- 
ble. By  the  assistance  of  Scoggin,  I  had 
been  brought  so  far,  yet  so  great  was  my  de- 
bility, tliat  every  hour  I  was  taken  off  and 
laid  on  the  ground,  to  keep  me  from  expir^ 
ing.  But  now,  alas  !  this  conveyance  was 
no  wove  'I  o  walk  was  impos>ible.  Inev- 
itable death,  m  the  midst  of  woods,  one 
hundred  miles  wide,  appeared  my  only  por- 
tion. 


CHAP.    III. 

Continuation,  till  our  a  riv  il  at  East  Bay  in  Lake  Champlain 

In  the  niorninor  of  the  J?ixtli  day,  tiie  In- 
dians  excruul  themselves  I o  prepare  one  of 
their  gre.ite^t  dainties.  The  marrow  bones 
of  obt  Scogiiin  were  pounded  lor  a  soup, 
mid  every  root,  hoih  sweet  and  bitter,  that 


the 

it  a 

as  h: 

then 

we  I 

unki 

and 

pose 

orde 

stren 

with 

rest 

then 

drop 

an  Ii 

whih 

go,  f 

last  t 

in  th 

masi( 

who 

tures 

not  a 

by  ai 

broth 

Mv 

comp 

suit 

walk 

hedi 

overj 

less  a 


^  V 


MRS.  JOHNSON. 


57 


■^ 


irolh  was 
i  was  ren- 
^soning  of 
s  began  to 
i  the  meal 
I  who  had 
?ecl  them- 
employed 
laiiied,  for 
;ne  of  dis- 
nue  weak- 
i  a  degree, 
nbly  terri- 
gin,  I  had 
vas  my  de- 
Len  off  and 
rom  expir- 
yance  was 
)le.     Inev- 
voods,  one 
?  only  por- 


,ke  Champlaln 

ay,  the  In- 
)iire  one  of 
row  bones 
or  a  soup, 
>itter,  that 


the  woods  aflforded,  was  thrown  in  to  give 
it  a  flavor.  Each  one  partook  of  as  muoh 
as  his  feelings  would  allow.  The  war  whoop 
then  resounded,  with  an  infernal  yell,  and 
we  began  lo  fix  for  a  march.  My  fate  was 
unknown,  till  my  master  brought  some  bark 
and  tied  my  petticoats,  as  high  as  he  sup- 
posed would  be  convenient  for  walking,  and 
ordered  me  to  *'  munch."  With  scarce 
strength  to  stand  alone,  I  went  on  half  a  mile 
with  mv  little  son  and  three  Indians.  The 
rest  were  advanced.  My  power  to  move 
then  failed,  the  world  grew  dark,  and  I 
dropped  down.  1  had  sight  enough  to  see 
an  Indian  lift  his  hatchet  over  my  head, 
while  my  little  son  screamed,  ''  Ma'am  do 
go,  for  they  will  kill  you".  As  I  fainted,  my 
last  thought  was,  that  I  should  presently  be 
in  the  world  of  spirits.  When  I  awoke,  my 
master  was  talking  angrily  with  the  savage, 
who  had  threatened  my  life.  By  his  ges- 
tures I  could  learn,  that  he  charged  him  with 
not  acting  the  honorable  part  of  a  warrior, 
by  an  attempt  to  destroy  the  prize  of  a 
brother.  A  whoop  was  given  for  a  halt. — 
My  master  helped  me  lo  the  rest  of  the 
company,  where  a  council  was  held,  the  re- 
sult of  which  was,  that  my  husband  should 
walk  by  my  side,  and  help  me  along.  This 
he  did  for  some  hours,  but  faintness  then 
overpowered  me,  and  Mr  Johnson's  tender- 
ness and  solicitude,  was  unequal  to  the  task^ 


■'1 


S8 


CAPTIVITY  OP 


h  m   t 


1    !i 


h: 


of  aidinor  me  further  ;  another  council  was 
held — while  in  debate,  as  I  lay  on  the  ground 
gasping   for  breath,    my  master  sprang  to- 
wards me,   with  his  hatchet.     My  husband 
and  fellow  prisoners  grew  j)ale  at  the  sight, 
suspecting  that  he  by  a  single  blow,  would 
rid  themselves  of  so  great  a  burthen  as  my- 
self.    But  he  had  yet  too  much  esteem  for 
his   "two  monies."     His  object  was  to  get 
bark  from  a  tree,  to  make  a  pack-saddle,  for 
my  conveyance  on  the  back  of  my  husband. 
He  took  me  up,  and  we   marched  in  that 
form  the  rest  of  the  day.     Mr.   Labarree 
^till  kept  my  infant,  Farnsworth  carried  one 
of  the  little  girls^   and  the  other  rode  with 
her  master  ;   they  were  extremely  sick  and 
weak,    owing  to  the   large   portion  of  the 
horse,  which  they  eat  ;  but  if  they  uttered 
a  murmuring  word,  a  menacing  frown  from 
the  savages,  soon  imposed  silence.    None  of 
the  Indians  were  disposed  to  shew  insults  of 
any  nature,  except  the   \oungest,  which  i 
have  before  mentioned.     He  often  delighted 
himself,  by  tormenting  my  sister,  pulling 
her  hair,  treading  on  her  gown,  and  numer- 
ous other  boyish  pranks,  which  were  pro- 
voking and  troublesome.      We  moved  on, 
xaint  and  wearily,  till  night  ;    the  Indians 
then  yelled  their  war  whoop,  built  a  fire, 
and  hung   over  their   horse  broth.     After 
supper,  my  booth  was  built,  as  usual,  and 


MRS.     .tOHNSON. 


39 


uncil  was 
he  ground 
sprang  to- 
y  husfDand 
the  sight, 
vv,  would 
I  en  as  iny- 
esteem  for 
was  to  get 
saddlo,  for 
r  husband, 
ed  in  that 
Labarree 
arried  one 
rode  with 
y  sick  and 
ion  of  the 
ey  uttered 
own  from 
None  of 
insults  of 
,  which  I 
delighted 
r,   pulling 
ad  numer- 
were  pro- 
noved  on, 
he  Indians 
uilt  a  fire, 
th.     After 
usual,  and 


I  reposed  much  better  than  I  had  the  pre- 
ceding nights. 

In  the  morning,  I  found  myself  greatly 
restored.  Without  the  aid  of  physicians,  or 
physic,  nature  had  began  the  cure  of  that 
weakness,  to  which  she  had  reduced  me, 
but  a  few  days  before.  The  reader  will  be 
tired  of  the  repetion  of  the  same  materials 
for  our  meals  ;  but  if  my  feelings  can  be  re- 
alized, no  one  will  turn  with  disgust  from  a 
breakfast  o(  steaks,  which  were  cut  from  th6 
thigh  of  a  horse.  After  which,  Mr.  John- 
son was  ordered  to  take  the  infant,  and  go 
forward  with  part  of  the  company.  I 
^'munched"  in  the  rear  till  we  came  to  a 
beaver  pond,  which  was  formed  in  a. branch 
of  Otter  Creek,  Here  I  was  obliged  to 
w  ade  ;  when  half  way  over,  up  to  the  mid- 
dle in  cold  water,  my  little  strength  failed, 
and  my  power  to  speak  or  see  left  me. — 
While  motionless  and  stiffened,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  pond,  I  was  perceived  from  the 
other  side,  by  Mr.  Johnson,  who  laid  down 
the  infant,  and  came  to  my  assistanae  ;  he 
took  me  in. his  arms,  and  when  ihe  oppo- 
site side  was  gained,  life  itself  had  apparent- 
ly forsaken  me.  The  whole  company  stop- 
ped, and  the  Indians,  with  more  humanity 
than  I  supposed  them  possessed  of,  busied 
themselves  in  making  a  fire,  to  warm  me  in- 
to life.  The  warm  influence  of  the  fire  re- 
stored my  exhausted  gtretigth  by  degrt^d, 


.     I! 


* 


»■■  ■ 


s^ 


.-L, 


"■*»»*^' 


40 


CAPTiriTT  or 


I     i 


w 


and  in  two  hours  I  was  told  to  munch  The 
rest  of  the  day  I  was  carried  by  my  husband. 
In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  we  arrived 
on  the  banks  of  one  of  the  great  branches 
of  Otter  Creek.  Here  we  halted,  and  two 
savages,  who  had  been  on  a  huiiling  scoutt 
returned  with  a  duck  ;  a  fire  was  inade» 
which  was  thrice  grateful  to  my  cold  shiv- 
ering limbs.  Six  days  had  now  almost  e- 
lapsed,  since  the  fatal  morn,  in  which  we 
were  taken,  and  by  the  blessin«f  of  that 
Providence,  whose-  smiles  give  life  to  crea- 
tion, we  were  still  in  existence.  My  wearied 
husband,  naked  children,  and  helpless  in- 
fant, formed  a  scene  that  conveyed  severer 
pangs  to  my  heart,  than  all  the  sufferings  I 
endured  mvself.  The  Indians  were  sullen 
and  silent,  the  prisoners  were'swoUen  with 
gloomy  grief,  and  I  was  half  the  time  ex- 
piring. After  my  feelings  were  a  little 
quickened  by  warmth,  my  sad  portion  was 
bronght  in  a  bark,  consisting  of  the  duck's 
head,  and  a  gill  of  broth.  As  I  lifted  the 
unsavory  morsel,  with  a  trembling  hand,  to 
my  mouth,  I  cast  my  thoughts  back  a  few 
days;  to  time  when,  from  a  board  plentiful- 
ly spread,  in  my  own  house,  I  eat  my  food 
with  a  merry  heart.  The  wooden  spoon 
dropped  from  my  feeble  hand.  The  con- 
trast was  too  affecting;.  Seated  on  a  ragged 
rock^  beneath  a  hemlock,  as  I  then  was  ;  e- 
maciatedby  sickness^  and  surrounded  by  my 


MRS.     JOHNSON. 


41 


iveeping  family,  who  were  helpless  prison* 
crs  despair  would  have  robbed  me  of  life, 
had  I  not  put  my  whole  confidence  in  that 
Beins^  who  has  power  to  save.  Our  mas- 
ters began  to  prepare  to  ford  the  stream. — 
I  swallowed  most  of  my  broth,  and  was  ta- 
ken up  by  my  husband.  The  river  was  ve- 
ry rapid,  and  passing  danorerous.  Mr.  Lab^^ 
arree,  when  hall  over  wiih  my  child,  was 
tripped  up  by  its  rapidity,  and  lost  the  babe 
in  the  water  ;  little  did  1  expect  to  see  the 
poor  thing  again,  but  he  fortunately  reach- 
ed a  corner  of  its  blanket,  and  saved  its 
life.  The  rest  got  safe  to  the  other  shore — 
another  fire  was  bnilt,  and  ii»y  sifter  dried 
the  infant,  and  its  clothes. 

Here  we  found  a  proof  of  Indian  sagaci- 
ty, which  might  jnsily  be  suppo  ed  not  to 
belong  to  a  band  of  rambling  barbi.rians. — 
In  their  journey  over  to  Connecticut  River, 
they  had,  in  this  place,  killed  a  bear.  The 
entrails  were  cleansed,  and  filled  with  the 
lat  of  the  animal,  and  suspended  from  the 
limb  of  a  tree ;  by  it  was  deposited  a  bag  of 
flour,  and  some  tobacco,  all  which  was  de- 
signated for  future  stores,  when  travelling 
that  wav.  Nothing  could  have  been  offer- 
ed  more  acceptable,  than  these  tokens  of  In- 
dian economy  and  prudence.  The  flour  wa» 
made  into  pudding,  and  the  benr  greaso^ 
sauce  was  not  unreiishing.  Broth  was  m  ide^ 
and  well  seasoned  with  snakeroot,  and  thos» 


V     f : 


42 


CAPTITITT    or 


\    ' 


who  were  fond  of  tobacco  had  each  their 
share.  The  whole  formed  quite  a  sumptu- 
ous entertainment.  But  these  savage  dain- 
ties made  no  senf^ible  addition  to  our  quota 
of  happiness.  My  weakness  increased,  my 
children  were  very  unwell,  and  Mr.  John- 
sohn's  situation  was  truly  distressing.  By 
travelling  barefoot,  over  such  a  lenght  of 
forest,  and  supporting  me  on  his  shoulders, 
his  feet  were  rendered  sore,  beyond  descrip- 
tion. I  cannot  express  too  much  gratitude, 
for  Mr.  Labarree's  goodness.  My  infant  was 
his  sole  charge,  and  he  supported  it,  by  pie- 
ces of  the  horse  flesh,  which  he  kept  for  its 
use,  which  by  being  first  chewed  in  his  own 
mouth,  and  then  put  into  the  child's  afford- 
ed it  the  necessary  nutriment.  After  supper, 
my  booth  was  made,  the  evenii^g  yell  was 
sounded,  and  we  encamped  for  the  night. — 
By  this  time  the  savages  hrid  relaxed  part  of 
their  watchfulness,  and  began  to  bt  careless 
of  our  escaping.  Labarree  and  Farnsworth 
were  slightly  bound,  and  my  husband  had 
all  his  liberty.  My  sister  could  sleep  with- 
out her  two  Indian  companions,  and  the 
whole  company  appeared  less  like  prison- 
ers. 

In  the  morning  of  the  eighth  day,  we 
were  roused  at  sunrise.  Allhouiih  the  ear- 
ly part  of  September  is  generally  blessed 
with  a  o3rene  sky,  and  a  warm  sun,  yet  we 
suffered    exceedingly   by   the  cold.      The 


ih  their 
jumptu- 
ro  dain- 
ir  quota 
56(1,  mv 
\  John- 

»g-  By 
inght  of 
Mulders, 
descrip- 
atitude, 
Fant  was 

by  pie- 
t  for  its 
his  own 

afford- 
supper, 
fell  was 
light. — 

part  of 
careless 
isworth 
nd  had 

p  with- 
and  the 

prison- 

av,  we 
the  ear- 
blessed 
yet  we 
The 


MRS.    JOHNSON.  4S 

mornings  were  damp  and  foggy,  and  the 
lofty  trees,  and  nnmeros  mountains,  often 
excluded  the  sun  till  noon.  Our  snakeroot 
broth,  enriched  with  flour,  and  made  a  rare 
breakfast,  and  gave  a  little  strenght  to  our 
exhausted  limbs.  Orders  came  to  '^munch.'" 
My  poor  husband  put  me  upon  the  j)ack- 
saddle,  and  we  resumed  our  march.  Long 
belore  night,  despondency  had  strikingly 
pictured  every  countenance.  My  little  son, 
who  had  performed  the  whole  journey  on 
foot,  was  almost  lifeless.  Mr.  Johnson  was 
emaciated,  and  almost  exhausted  ;  often  he 
laid  me  on  the  ground  to  save  his  own  life, 
and  mine  ;  for  my  weakness  was  too  great 
to  ride  far,  without  requiring  r  st.  While 
prostrato  upon  the  earth,  and  able  to  speak, 
I  often  begged  him  to  leave  me  there,  to  end 
a  life,  which  could  last  but  a  short  time,  and 
would  take  his  witli  it,  if  he  continued  his 
exertions  to  save  me  ;  but  the  idea  was  too 
shocking,  we  continued  our  journey,  in  a 
slow,  iforrowful  mood,  till  night.  Often 
did  I  measure  a  small  distance  for  the  auu  ^ 
to  run,  before  I  must  bid  it  an  eternal  adieu.  ; 
But  the  same  Providence  who  had  brought  i 
us  so  far,  and  inclined  our  savage  masters  to 
mercy,  continued  my  protector.  Farns- 
worth  carried  me  a  small  distance,  and  at 
last  darkness  put  an  end  to  our  painlul  day's 
journey.  After  the  customary  refreshment, 
we  went  to  rest.     The  nidit  was  terrible  ; 


I'-  '  f 


■va 


'lyi- 


<i»iM>W'f.tto'>MM*^  .'tJtwiafcjKftMmWB***  -u 


':'«iaTiiiiii'ja 


:'  HI! 


i      1 


^    ■' 


I     \\ 


44 


CAPTIVITY   OF 


the  first  part  was  egyptian  darkness,  then 
thunder,  and  lightning,  and  rain.  On  the 
cold  earth,  without  a  cover,  our  situation 
may  be  imagined,  but  not  described.  The 
Indians  gave  me  an  additional  blanket  for 
my  use,  shewed  fome  concern  for  my  wel- 
fare; but  it  will  ever  stand  first  among  mod* 
ern  miracles,  that  my  life  was  spared. 

The  morning  came,  and  a  bright  sun  re- 
animated our  drowned  spirits.  The  whole 
company  now  re:?embled  a  group  of  ghosts, 
more  than  boililv  forms.  Little  did  I  ex- 
pect  that  the  light  of  another  day  would 
witness  my  existence  ;  sensible,  that  if  my 
own  sad  diseases  did  not  finish  my  existence, 
my  husband  would  be  reduced  to  the  woful 
alternative,  of  either  perishing  with  me,  or 
leaving  me  in  the  woods  to  pre  erve  his  own 
life.  The  horrid  yell  was  given,  which  wa» 
(I  signal  for  preparation.  Melancholy  sat 
heavily  on  every  countenance,  and  the  tear 
of  woe  moistened  the  sickened  cheek  of  ev- 
ery prisoner.  In  addilion  to  famine  and 
fatigue,  so  long  a  jouriiey,  without  a  shoo 
for  delence,  had  lacerated  and  mangled  ev- 
ery foot,  to  a  shocking  degree  ;  travelling 
was  keenly  painful,  i  he  scanty  breakfast 
was  served  I'p  ;  as  I  was  llftiui^  my  gill  of 
broth  to  my  cold  lips,  my  m;i3ter,  with  a 
rash  hand,  pulled  it  from  me,  auii  gave  ittQ 
my  husband,  observing  bysign^  that  here- 
quired  all  the  sustenance,  to  enable  him  to 


MRS.    JOHIfSOM. 


45 


Carry  me.     I    yielded,   on   the  supposition 
that  it  was  a  matter  of  little  consequence, 
whether  any  thing  was  bestowed  to  thatbo- 
dy  which  must  soon  mingle  with  its  urigiR- 
al  clav.     V\ith  sorrow  and  anciuish,  we  be- 
gan  the  ninth  day's  journey.     Hefora   w© 
proceeded  far,  the   Indians  s-ignified  to  us, 
that  we  should  arrive,  before  night,  at  East 
Bay,  on  Lake  Cliamplain.     This  was  a  cor- 
dial to  our  drooping  spirits,  and  caused  an 
immediate  transition  from  despair  t!)  joy  ; 
the  idea  of  arriving  at  a  place  of  vvater  car- 
riage, translated  us  to  new  life.     Those  who 
languished  with  sickness,  fatigue  or  despair, 
now  marched  forward  with  nervous  alacri- 
ty.    Two  Indians  were  sent  on  a  himting 
BCOut,  who  were  to  meet  us  at  the  Pay,  with 
canoes.     This  seasonable  and  aorteable  in- 
telligence, had  every  possible  effect  that  wai 
good  ;  we  walked  with  greater  speed,  felt 
less  of   the  journey,  and  thought  !it'le  of 
our  distresses.     About  the  middle  of  the  af- 
ternoon the  waters  of  the  Lakj  were  seen, 
from  a  neighboring  eminence  ;  we  soon  gain- 
ed the  bank,  whjre  we  fouml  the  two  In* 
dians,  with  four  canoes,  and  aground  j?quir- 
rel  ;  a  fire  was  built,  and  some  food  put  in 
preparation.     Here  my  feelliugs,  whic  h  had 
not  been  exhilerated  so  muc  h  as  »he  rest  of 
my  fellow  prisoners,  were  buoyed  above  de- 
spair, and,  for  a  short  time,  the  panics  of  dis- 
tress lost  their  influence,     'i  he  liic,  which 


46 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


hi)  I 


'  i 


I  • 


F( 


nine  days  painful  suffering  in  the  wilderness, 
had  brought  to  its  lasi  moment  of  duratioH, 
now  started  into  new  existence,  and  render- 
ed the  hour  I  sat  on  the  shore  of  Lake 
Champlain  one  of  the  happiest  I  ever  ex* 
perieneed.  Here  we  were  to  take  passage, 
in  boats  and  find  relief  from  the  thorny  hills 
and  myry  swamps  of  the  desert.  My  hus- 
band could  now  be  relieved  from  the  bur- 
den, which  had  brought  him  as  nigh  eterni- 
ty as  myself.  My  little  children  would  soon 
find  clothing,  and  all  my  fellow  sufferers 
would  be  in  a  condidion  to  attain  some  of 
life's  conveniences.  Twelve  hours  sailing 
would  waft  us  to  the  settlements  of  civil- 
ized Frenchmen.  Considering  how  much 
we  had  endured,  few  will  deem  it  less  than 
a  miracle,  that  we  were  still  among  the  liv- 
ing. My  son,  of  six  years  old,  had  walked 
barefoot  the  whole  of  the  journey.  Farns- 
worth  was  shoeless,  and  carried  my  eldest 
daughter.  Labarree  had  to  carry  and  pre- 
serve the  life  of  my  infant.  My  sister,  ow- 
ing to  hei  youth  and  health,  had  suffered  the 
least.  My  two  little  daughters,  with  only 
their  shifts,  and  part  of  one  of  the  three 
gowns,  which  tlie  savage  gave  me,  were  sub- 
ject to  :J1  the  damps  of  morn  and  night  ; 
and  Mr.  Johnson's  situaiion  Avas  pitiably 
painful ;  the  fatigue  of  carrying  me  on  his 
emaciated  body  almost  a  corpse,  and  his  sore 
feet  made  him  a  cripple.     The  Indians  had 


a,i 


\ 


MRS.    JOHNSOIf. 


47 


srness, 
'atioH, 
ender- 

Lake 
'er  ex* 
issa^e, 
y  hills 
y  hus- 
j  bur- 
Jterni- 
1  soon 
fTerers 
>me  of 
^ailing 
civil- 
much 
s  than 
le  liv- 
alked 
?arns- 
eldest 
1  pre- 
,  ow- 
dthe 

only 
three 
3sub- 
ight  ; 
iably 
n  his 
ssore 
s  had 


been  surprisingly  patient,  and  often  discov- 
ered tokens  of  humanity.  At  every  meal 
we  all  shared  equal  with  them,  whether  a 
horse  or  a  duck  composed  the  bill  of  fare, 
and  more  than  once  they  gave  me  a  blanket, 
to  shelter  me  from  a  thunder  storm. 


CHAP.   IV. 


i" 


Crossing  the  Lake  to  Crown  point,  from  thence  to  Sli 
Johns— .Chamblee— and  to  St.  Francis'  Village. 

I  will  only  detain  the  reader  a  few  mo- 
ments longer  in  this  place,  while  I  eat  the 
leg  of  a  woodchuck,  and  then  request  him 
to  take  a  night's  sailing  in  the  canoe  with  me 
across  the  Lake,  Though  I  sincerelv  wish 
him  a  better  passage  than  I  had.  No  soon- 
er was  our  repast  finished,  than  the  party 
were  divided  into  four  equal  parties,  for 
passage.  In  my  boat  were  two  savages,  be- 
sides my  son  and  inf\mt.  I  was  ordered  to 
lie  flat  on  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  and 
when  pain  obliged  me  to  move  for  relief,  I 
had  a  rap  from  a  paddle.  At  day  break,  we 
arrived  at  a  great  rock,  on  the  west  side  of 
the  Lake,  where  we  stopped  and  built  a  fire. 
The  Indians  went  to  a  French  house,  not 
far  distant,  and  got  some  meat,  breid,  and 
green  corn.  Although  we  were  not  allowed 
to  taste  the  meat,  yet,  by  the  grateful  efflu- 
via of  the  broiling  steak,  we  were  finely  re- 


• 

■ , 

m 

m 

*  ^ 

^m^ 


■i    itJl 


/j 


48 


CAPTIVITY    OP 


ii  I 


!U 


!  I 


' .  >t 


galed,  and  the  bread  and  roast  corn,  were  a 
luxury. 

Here  the  savages,  for  the  first  time,  gave 
loud  tokens  of  jo)s  by  hallooing  and  yelling 
in  a  treinenduous  manner.  The  prisoners 
were  now  introduced  to  a  new  school.  Lit- 
tle did  we  expect  that  the  accomplishment 
of  dancing  would  be  taught  us  by  the  savges 
But  the  war  dance  must  now  be  held  ;  and 
every  prisoner  that  couhl  move,  must  take 
its  awkward  steps.  The  figure  consisted  of 
circular  motion  round  the  fire  ;  each  sang 
his  own  music,  and  the  best  dancer,  was  the 
most  violent  in  motion.  The  prisoners  were 
taught  each  a  sotig,  mine  was,  danna  witch- 
ee  natchepung  ;  my  son's  was  narwiscump* 
ton.  The  rest  I  cannot  recollect.  Wheth- 
er this  talk  was  imposed  on  us  for  their  di- 
version, or  a  religious  ceremonial,  I  cannot 
say,  but  it  was  very  painful  and  olfensive. 
In  the  forenoon,  seven  Indians  came  to  us, 
who  were  received  with  great  joy  by  our 
masters,  who  took  sreat  pleasure  i;;  intro- 
ducing their  prisoners.  The  war  i  .kh  e  was 
again  held  ;  we  were  obliged  to  joi.i,  and 
sing  our  songs,  while  the  Indians  rent  the 
air  wilh  infernal  >  el  ling.  We  then  cjnl)ark- 
cd  and  arrived  at  Crown  Point  aboiii  noon. 
Each  prisoner  was  then  led  by  his  muster  to 
the  residence  of  the  Fieiuh  commander.— 
The  Indians  kept  up  their  infenud  \clling 
the  whole  time.     We  were  ordered  to  hisi 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


49 


were  a 

le,  gav© 
yelling 
risonera 
)1.    Lit- 
ishmcnt 
3  savges 
(I  ;  and 
list  take 
isted  of 
:;h  sang 
was  the 
3rs  were 
1  witch- 
iscump- 
Wheth- 
heir  di- 
1  cannot 
Tensive, 
e  to  us, 
by  our 
.J  intro- 
e  was 
)i.],  and 
cut  the 
jn!)ark- 
i  noon. 
5«ter  to 
mler.— 
\cUing 
I  lo  hisi 


apartment,  and  used  with  that  hospitality 
v^hich  characterizes  the  best  part  of  the  na- 
tion. We  had  brandy  in  profusion,  a  good 
dinner,  and  a  change  of  linen.  This  was 
luxury  indeed,  after  what  we  had  suffered, 
for  the  want  of  these  things.  None  but  our- 
selves could  prize  their  value.  We,  after 
dinner,  were  paraded  before  Mr.  Command- 
er, and  underwent  examination,  after  which 
we  were  shewn  a  convenient  apartment, 
where  we  resided  four  days,  not  subject  to 
the  jurisdiction  of  our  savage  masters. — 
Here  we  received  great  civilities,  and  many 
presents,  I  had  a  nurse,  who  in  a  great 
measur^  restored  my  exhausted  strength. — 
My  children  were  all  decently  slothed,  and 
my  infant  in  particular.  The  first  day, 
while  I  was  taking  a  nap^  they  dressed  it  so 
fantastically,  a  la  France,  that  I  refused  to 
own  it,  when  brought  to  my  bedside,  not 
guessing  that  I  was  the  mother  of  such  a 
stran<je  thinfj. 

On  the  fourth  day,  to  our  great  grief  and 
mortification,  we  were  again  delheredto 
the  Indians,  who  led  us  to  the  water  side, 
where  we  all  embarked  in  one  vessel  for  St. 
Johns.  The  wind  shifted,  after  a  short  sail 
and  we  dropped  anchor.  In  a  little  time  a 
cannoe  came  along  side  of  us,  m  which  was 
a  white  woman,  who  was  bound  for  Albanv. 
Mr.  Johnson  begged  her  to  stop  a  few  mo- 
ments, while  he  wrote  to  col.  Lvdius  of  Al- 


i 


I 


^ 


w 


50 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


bany,  to  inform  him  of  our  situation,  and 
to  request  him  to  put  the  same  in  the  Bos- 
ton newspapers,  that  our  friends  might 
learn  that  we  were  alive.  The  woman  de- 
livered tlie  letter  and  the  contents  were  pub- 
lished, which  conveyed  the  agreeable  ti- 
dings  to  our  friends,  that  although  prison- 
ers, we  were  then  alive. 

The  following  letter,  in  return  for  the 
one  we  sent  to  Col.  Lydius,  was  the  first 
we  received  from  New  E Midland  : 

.  Albany,  Nov.  5.  1754. 

Sir, — I  received  yours  of  the  5th  Octo- 
ber, with  a  letter  o"  two  for  New-Encjland, 
which  I  have  forwarded  immediately,  and 
have  wrote  to  Boston,  in  which  I  urged  the 
government  to  endeavor  your  and  family's 
redemption  as  soon  as  convenieacy  would 
admit. 

I  am  quite  sorr}^^  for  your  doleful  misfor- 
tune^  and  hope  the  just  God  will  endue  you 
with  patience  to  undergo  your  troubles,  and 
iustlv  use  his  rewards  on  the  evil  doers  and 
autliors  of  vour  misfortune.  Present  my 
service  to  all  the  prisoners  with  you,  from 
him  who  subscribes  himself  to  be  your  very 
humble  servant, 

JOHN  W.  LYDDIUS. 
Lieut.  James  Johnson,  Montreal. 

After  a  <Usagreeable  voyage  of  three  days 
we  made  St.  Johns,  the  16th  of  September, 


men 


MRS.  JOHNSON. 


51 


n,  antl 
e  Bos- 
might 
laa  de- 
re  pub- 
.hle  ti- 
piison- 

for  the 
he  first 

1754. 

h  Octo- 
incrland, 

ly,  and 
^aed  the 

family's 

y  would 

misfor- 
dae  you 
Ibles,  and 
lloers  and 
esent  my 
[oa,  from 
our  very 

DIUS. 

hree  days 
sptember, 


where  we  again  experienced  the  politeness 
of  a  Frencli  commcind' r.     I  with  my  child, 
was  kindly  lodged  '.j  the  same  room  with 
himself  and  lady.     In  the  morning  we  still 
found  misfortune  treading  clo^e  at  our  heels; 
we  must  again  be  delivered  to  our  savage 
masters,   and   take   another   passage   in  the 
boats  for  Chamblee,  when  within  three  miles 
of  which,  Labarree,  myself  and  chdd,  with 
our  two  masters,   were  put   on  shore  ;  we 
were  ignorant  of  our   destiny,  and  parting 
from  my  husband  and  friends,  was  a  severe 
trial,  without  knowing  whether  we  weife 
ever  to  meet  them  again.     We  walked  on 
to  Chamblee  ;    here  our  fears  were  dissipa- 
ted, by  meeting  our  friends.     In  the  i  arri- 
son  of  this  j)lace,  we  found  all  the  hospital- 
ity our  necessities  required.      Here  for  the 
first,  after  my  captivity,  I  lodged  on  a  bed. 
Brandv  was  handed   about  in  lar«e  bowls, 
and  we  lived  in  high  style.    The  next  morn- 
ing we  were  put  in  the  custody  of  our  old 
masters,  who  took  is  to  the  canoes,  in  which 
we  had  a  painful  voyage  that   dav,  and  the 
following  night  to   Sorrell  ;    where  we  ar- 
rived on  the  19th.     A  hospitable  friar  came 
to  the  shore  to  see  us,  and  invited  us  to  his 
house  ;    he  gave   us  a  good   breakfast,  and 
drank  our  better  healths,   in  a  tumbler  of 
brandy;    he  took  compassionate  notice  of 
my  child,  and  ordered  it  some  suitable  food. 
But  the  Indians   hurried  us  olf    before  it 


ii' 


I 


■M 


62 


CAPTIVITY  OF 


tM 


!ii 


J  ■«] 


J^iii  " 


< 


could  eat.  He  then  went  with  us  to  the 
shore,  and  ordered  his  servant  to  carry  the 
food,  prepared  for  the  child,  to  the  canoe, 
where  he  waited  till  I  fed  it.  The  friar  was 
a  very  genteel  man,  and  gave  us  his  bene- 
i  diction  at  parting,  in  feeling  language.  We 
!  then  rowed  on  till  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon, when  we  landed  on  a  barren  heath, 
and  by  the  help  of  a  fire,  cooked  liU  Indian 
dinner  ;  after  which  the  war  dance  was  held, 
and  another  infernal  yelli)  g.  The  prison- 
ers were  obliged  to  sing,  till  they  were 
hoarse,  and  dance  round  the  fire. 

We  had  now  arrived  within  a  few  miles 
of  the  village  of  St  Francis,  to  which  place 
our  masters  belonged.  Whenever  the  war- 
riors return  from  an  excursion  against  an  en- 
emy, their  return  to  the  tribe  or  village 
must  be  designated  by  warlike  ceremonial ; 
the  captives  or  spoil,  whicli  may  happeii  to 
crown  their  valor,  must  be  conducted  in  a 
triumphant  form,  and  decorated  to  every 
possible  advantage.  For  this  end  we  must 
now  submit  to  painting  ;  their  vermillion, 
with  which  they  were  ever  supplied,  was 
mixed  with  bear's  grease,  and  every  cheek, 
chin  and  forehead  must  have  a  dash.  We 
then  rowed  on  within  a  mile  of  the  town, 
where  we  stopped  at  a  French  house,  to 
dine ;  the  prisoners  were  served  with  soup 
meagre  and  bread.  After  dinner,  two  sav- 
ages, proceeded  to  the  village,  to  carry  the 


his  t 

um 

othe 

and 

hom( 


MRS.  JOHNSON. 


53 


m  i 


il 


to  the 
ry  the 
canoe, 
ar  was 
5  bene- 
.  We 
I  aiter- 
heath, 
Indian 
IS  held, 
prisop- 
Y  were 

;v  miles 
;h  place 
^le  war- 
t  an  en- 
villa^e 
nonial ; 
ppeii  to 
ted  in  a 
0  every 
ve  must 
nillion, 
d,  was 
cheek, 
11.     We 
e  town, 
3 use,  to 
th  soup 
wo  sav- 
arry  the 


glad  tidings  of  our  arrival.  The  whole  at- 
mosphere soon  resounded  from  every  quar- 
ter, with  whoops,  yells,  shrieks  and  screams. 
St  Francis,  from  the  noise  that  came  from 
it,  might  be  supposed  the  center  of  Pande- 
monium. Our  masters  were  not  backward, 
they  made  every  response  they  possibly 
could.  The  whole  time  we  were  sailing 
from  the  French  houae,  the  noise  was  dire- 
ful to  be  Iieard.  Two  hoiu*s  before  sunset, 
we  came  to  tlie  landing,  at  the  village. — 
No  sooner  had  we  landed,  than  the  yelling 
in  the  town  was  redoubled,  a  cloud  of  sav- 
ages, of  all  sizes  and  sexes,  soon  appeared 
running  towards  us  ;  when  they  reached 
the  boats,  thev  formed  themselves  into  a 
long  parade,  leaving  a  small  space,  through 
which  we  nust  pass.  Each  Indian  then  took 
his  prisoner  by  his  hand,  and  afcer  ordering 
him  to  sing  the  war  song,  began  lo  march 
through  the  gauntlet.  We  expected  a  se- 
vere beating,  before  we  got  through,  but 
were  disagreeably  disappointed,  when  we 
found  that  each  Indian  only  gave  us  a  tap  on 
the  shoulder.  We  were  led  directly  to  the 
houses,  each  taking  his  prisoner  to  his  own 
wigwam.  When  I  entered  my  master's  door., 
his  brother  saluted  mc  with  a  belt  of  wamp- 
um, and  my  master  presented  me  with  an- 
other. Both  were  put  over  my  shoulders, 
and  crossed  behind  and  before.  My  new 
home  was  not  the  most  agreeable  ;   a  large 


"i 


li 


it*!   *' 


I 


l< 


!'l 


,      ( 


{    'I 


i  i. 


IS- 


54 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


wigwam  without  a  floor,  with  a  fire  in  the 
center,  and  only  a  few  water  vessels  and 
dishes  to  eat  from,  made  of  bircli  bark,  and 
tools  for  cookery,  made  ilnrnsily  of  wood, 
for  furniture,  will  not  be  thought  a  pleasing 
residence  to  one  accustomed  to  civilized 
life. 


i 


CHAP.    V . 

Eesidence  at  St  Francis.     Sale  of  most  of  the  Prisoners  to 
the  French,  <-.nd  Removal  to  Montreal. 

Nitjht  presently  caiiie,  after  our  arrival  at 
St.  Francis.  Those  who  have  ftU  the 
gloomy,  liomesick  feelings,  which  sadden 
those  hours  which  a  youth  has  to  passes, 
when  firs^t  from  a  father's  house,  may  judge 
of  part  of  my  sufferings  ;  but  when  the  rest 
of  my  circumstances  are  added,  their  con- 
ception must  fall  infinitely  short.  I  now 
found  myself,  with  my  infant,  in  a  large 
wigwam,  accomj)anied  with  two  or  three 
warriors,  and  as  many  sqiuiws,  where  I  must 
spend  the  night,  and  perhaps  a  year.  My 
fellow  prisoners  v\ere  dispersed  over  Ihe 
town  ;  each  one,  probably,  feeling  the  same 
gloominess  with  myself.  Hasiy  puddinj^r 
presently  was  brought  forvtard  lor  supper. 
A  s|  jious  bowl  of  wood,  well  filled,  was 
placed  in  a  central  spot,  and  eacli  one  {\rew 
near  with  a  wooden  spoon.     As  the  Indians 


last 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


65 


;  in  tlie 
3ls  and 
rk, and 
wood, 
)leasing 
ivilized 


'risoners  to 

nival  at 
fcU    the 

sadden 
passes, 

y  j^^^e 
the  rest 

leir  con- 

I  now 

a  large 
or  three 

e  I  must 
ar.  My 
)ver  the 

he  same 

pudding 
supper. 

led,  was 
)ne  drew 
s  Indians 


laever  use  seats,  nor  hav£  any  in  their  wig- 
wi?ms,  my  awkwardness  in  taking  my  posi- 
tion, was  a  matter  of  no  small  amusement 
to  my  new  companions.  The  squaws  first 
fall  upon  their  knees,  and  then  sit  back  up- 
on their  heels.  This  was  a  posture  that  I 
could  not  imitate.  To  sit  in  anv  other,  was 
thought  by  them  indelicate  and  unpolite. — 
But  I  advanced  to  niy  pudding,  with  the 
best  grace  I  could,  not,  however,  escaping 
some  oi  their  fuiuiy  remarks.  When  the 
hour  for  sleep  came  on,  for  it  would  he  im- 
proper to  call  it  bedtime,  where  beds  were 
not,  I  was  |)ointed  to  a  platform,  raised  half 
a  yard,  where  upon  a  board,  covered  with 
a  blanket,  I  was  to  [xiss  the  night.  The  In- 
dians threw  themselves  down,  in  varions 
parts  of  the  building,  in  a  manner  that  more 
resembled  cows,  in  a  shed,  than  human  be- 
ings, in  a  house.  In  the  morni;ig,  our  break- 
iast  co'.cisted  of  the  relicks  of  the  last  night; 
my  sisier  came  to  see  me  in  the  forenoon, 
and  we  spent  some  hours,  in  observations 
upon  our  situation,  while  washing  some  ap- 
parrel,  at  a  little  brook.  In  the  afternoon, 
J  with  my  infiint,  was  taken  to  the  grand 
parade,  where  we  found  a  large  collection 
of  the  village  inhabitants  ;  an  aged  chief 
stepped  forward,  into  an  area,  and  alter  ev- 
ery one  fixed  in  profound  attention,  he  be- 
gan to  harrangue  ;  his  manner  was  solemn — 
hh  motions  and  expression  give  me  a  per- 


IS 


I 


56 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


ilii 


I  «■ 


feet  idea  of  an  orator.  Not  a  breath  was 
heard,  and  every  spectator  seemed  to  rever- 
ence what  he  said.  After  the  speech,  my 
little  son  was  brought  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  parade,  and  a  number  of  blankets 
laid  by  his  side.  It  now  appeared  that  his 
master  and  mine  intended  an  exchange  of 
prisoners.  My  master  being  a  hunter,  wish- 
ed for  my  son,  to  attend  him  on  his  excur- 
sions. Each  delivered  his  property  with 
great  formality  ;  my  son  and  blankets,  be- 
ing an  equivalent  for  myself,  child  and 
wampum.  I  was  taken  to  the  house  of  my 
new  master,  and  found  mvself  allied  to  the 
first  family  ;  my  master,  whose  name  was 
Gill,  was  son-in-law  to  the  Grand  Sachem, 
was  accounted  rich,  had  a  store  of  goods, 
and  lived  in  a  style  far  above  the  majority 
of  his  tribe.  He  often  told  me  that  he  had 
an  English  heart,  but  his  wife  was  true  In- 
dian blood.  Soon  after  my  arrival  at  his 
house,  the  Interpreter  came  to  inform  me 
that  I  was  adopted  into  his  family.  I  was 
then  introduced  to  the  family,  and  was  told 
to  call  them  brothers  and  sisters.  I  made 
a  short  reply,  expressive  of  gratitude,  for 
being  introdued  to  a  house  of  high  rank, 
and  requested  their  patience  while  I  should 
learn  the  customs  of  the  nation.  This  was 
scarce  over,  when  the  attention  of  the  vil- 
lage was  called  to  the  grand  parade,  to  at- 
tend a  rejoicing  occasioned  by  the  arrived 


MRS.     JOHNSON. 


67 


ath  was 

0  rever- 
jch,  mv 
site  side 
blankets 
that  his 
ange  of 

ir,  wish- 
Ls  excur- 
ty  with 
vets,  be- 
lild  and 
;e  of  mv 
d  to  the 
a  me  was 
Sachem, 
f  goods, 
majority 
t  he  had 
true  In- 
al  at  his 
form  me 
.  I  was 
was  told 
I  made 
ude,  for 
gh  rank, 

1  should 
This  was 
*  the  vil- 
ie,  to  at- 
e  arrivejl 


of  some  warriors,  who  had  brought  some 
scalps.  They  were  carried  in  triumph  on 
a  pole.  Savage  butchery,  upon  murdered 
countrymen  !  The  sight  was  horrid.  As  I 
retired  to  my  new  residence,  I  could  hear 
the  savage  yells  that  accompanied  the  war 
dance.     I  spenC  the  night  in  sad  reflection. 

My  time  was  now  solitary  beyond  desrip- 
tion  ;  my  new  sisters  and  brothers  treated 
me  with  the  same  attention  that  they  did 
their  natural  kindred,  but  it  was  an  unnat- 
ural j'll'uation  to  me.  I  was  a  novice  at  makinir 
canoes,  bunks,  and  tumplines,  wliich  was  the 
only  occupation  of  the  squaws  ;  of  course, 
idleness  was  among  my  calamities.  My 
fellow  prisoners  were  as  gloomy  as  myself  ; 
ignorant  whether  they  were  to  spend  their 
days  in  this  inactive  villa<]^e,  to  be  carried 
into  a  war  campaign,  to  slaughter  their 
countrymen,  or  to  be  dragged  to  the  cold 
Lakes  of  the  north,  in  a  huntins;  vova^je  — 
We  visited  each  other  daily,  and  spent  our 
time  in  conjecturing  our  future  destiny. 

The  space  of  forty-two  years  having  c- 
lapsed,  since  my  residence  in  St.  Francis, 
it  is  impossible  to  give  tlie  reader  a  minute 
detail  of  events  that  occurred  while  there  ; 
many  of  them  are  still  forcibly  impressed 
upon  my  memory,  but  dates  and  particu- 
lars are  now  inaccurately  treasured  up  by 
faint  recollection.     Mr.  Johnson  tarried  but 


■; 


'it 


^r    I 


mm 


"  1' 


f'J>fi'^--i!i't,g,  Jtiiilpli^li^-* 


'!!• 


ii, 


f. 

.li 


!i 


■u 


M 


^ 


CAPTIVITY  OF 


-a  few  Jays  with  me,  before  he  was  carried 
to  Montreal,  to  be  soltl.  My  two  daugh- 
ters, sister  and  Labarree,  were  soon  after 
carried  to  tlie  irame  phice,  at  different  times 
Farnsworth  was  carried  by  his  master,  on 
a  hunting  scout,  but  not  proving  so  active  in 
the  chase  and  ambush  as  they  wished,  he 
was  returned  and  sent  lO  Montreal.  I  now 
found  an  increase  to  my  trouble,  with  only 
my  son  and  infant,  in  this  strange  land,  with- 
out a  prospect  of  relief,  and  with  all  my 
former  trouble  lying  heavy  upon  me,  disap- 
pointment and  despair  came  well  nigh  be- 
ing my  executioners.  In  this  dilemma,  who 
can  imagine  my  distress,  when  my  little  son 
came  running  to  me  one  morning,  swollen 
with  tears, exclaiming,  ihat  the  Indians  were 
going  to  carry  him  into  the  woods  to  hunt; 
he  had  scarce  told  the  piteous  story,  before 
his  master  came,  to  pull  him  away;  he  threw 
his  little  arms  around  me,  begging  in  the  ag- 
ony ol  his  grief,  that  I  would  keep  him. — 
The  inexorable  sarage  unclenched  his  hands, 
and  forced  him  away  ;  the  la^t  words  I 
heard,  intermingled  with  his  cries,  were, 
ma'am  I  shall  never  see  vou  a^ain*  The 
keenness  of  my  pangs  almost  obliued  me  to 
wish  that  1  had  never  been  a  mother.  Fare- 
well, Sylvaiiu^s  said  I,  God  will  preserve 
yoti. 

It  was  now  the  lotii  of  October.     Forty 
iivc  days  had  passed  suue  my  captivity,  and 


MRS.    jon>fscx. 


59 


carried 
clauiih- 
on  after 
it  times 
ster,  on 
ictive  in 
hed,  he 
I  now 
ith  only 
(1,  with- 
ali  my 
e,  disap- 
nigh  be- 
na,  who 
ittle  son 
swollen 
[\ns  were 
to  hunt; 
^  before 
le  tlirew 
[1  the  ag- 
)  him. — 
is  hands, 
words  I 
s,  were, 
n.  The 
id  me  to 
r.  Fare- 
preserve 

Fortv 
aty,  and 


no  prospect  bnt  what  was  darkened  with 
the  clouds  of  misfortune.  The  uneasiness 
occadoned  by  indolence,  was  in  some  meas- 
ure relieved,  by  the  privilesre  of  making 
shirts  for  mv  brother.  At  ni^ht  and  morn 
I  was  allowed  to  milk  the  cows.  The  rest 
of  the  time  I  strolled  gloomily  about,  look- 
ing sometimes  into  an  unsociable  wigwam, 
at  others  sauntering  into  the  bushes,  and 
walking  on  the  banks  of  brooks.  Once  I 
went  to  a  French  house,  three  miles  distant 
to  visit  some  friends  of  my  brother's  fami- 
ly, where  I  was  entertained  politely  a  week: 
at  another  time,  I  went  with  a  pariy  to  fish, 
accompanied  by  a  number  of  gquaws.  My 
Wv  ikness  obliged  me  to  rest  olten,  which 
gave  my  con.panionsa  poor  opinion  of  uie  ; 
but  they  shewed  no  other  resentment,  than 
calling  me  '^  no  jcood  squaw,"  which  was 
the  only  reproach  my  sister  ever  gave,  when 
I  displeased  her.  All  the  French  inhabit- 
ants I  formed  an  acquaintance  with,  treated 
me  with  that  civilitv  which  distinci^uishes 
the  nation  ;  once  in  particular,  being  almost 
distracted  with  an  aching  tooth,  I  was  car- 
ried to  a  French  phycian,  across  the  river, 
for  relief.  They  prevailed  on  the  Indians, 
to  let  me  visit  them  a  day  or  two,  during 
which  time,  their  marked  attention  and 
generosity  claims  my  warmest  gratitude. — 
At  parting,  they  expressed  their  earnest 
wishes  to  have  ine  vi^^it  them  aixain. 


1l 


1^^ 


mi 


:■ 


60 


CAPTIVTY    OF 


i 


St  Francis  contained  about  thirty  wig- 
wams, which  were  thrown  disorderly  into 
a  clump.  There  was  a  church,  in  which 
mass  was  held  every  night  and  morning 
and  every  Sunday  the  hearers  were  sum- 
moned by  a  bell ;  and  attendance  was  pret- 
ty general.  Ceremonies  were  performed  by 
a  French  friar,  who  lived  in  the  midst  of 
them,  for  the  salvation  of  their  souls.  He 
appeared  to  be  in  that  place,  what  the  le- 
gislative branch  is  in  civil  governments,  and 
the  grand  sachem  the  executive.  The  in- 
habitants lived  m  perfect  harmony,  holding 
most  of  their  property  in  common.  They 
were  prone  to  indolence,  when  at  home,  and 
not  remarkable  for  neatness.  They  were 
extremely  modest,  and  apparently  averse  to 
airs  of  courtship.  Necessity  was  the  only 
thing  that  called  them  to  action  ;  this  indu- 
ced them  to  plant  their  corn,  and  to  under- 
go the  fatigues  of  hunting.  Perhaps  I  am 
wrong  to  call  necessity  the  only  motive  ; 
revenge,  which  prompts  them  to  war,  has 
great  power.  I  had  a  numerous  retinue  of 
relations,  whom  I  visited  daily;  but  my 
brother's  house,  being  one  of  the  most  de- 
scent in  tlie  village,  I  fared  full  as  well  at 
lioine.  Among  my  connections  was  a  little 
brother  Sabbatis,who  brought  the  cows  for 
me,  and  took  particular  notice  of  my  child. 
He  WIS  a  sprightly  little  fellow,  and  often 


MRS.    JOHJNSOM. 


61 


rty  wig- 
3rly  into 
n  which 
morninor 

re  sum- 
'as  pret- 
rmed  by 
midst  of 
lis.  He 
t  the  le- 
snts,  and 
The  in- 
holding 

They 
me,  and 
y  were 
verse  to 
he  only 
is  indu- 
)  nnder- 
ps  I  am 
notive  ; 
rar,  has 
tinue  of 
but  my 
lost  de- 
well  at 
a  little 
ows  for 
Y  child, 
id  often 


amused  me  with  feats  performed  with  his 
bow  and  arrow. 

In  the  early  part  of  November,  Mr.  John- 
son wrote  from  Montreal,  requesting  me  to 
prevail  on  the  Indians  to  carry  me  to  Mon- 
treal, for  sale,  as  he  had  made  provision  for 
that  purpose.  I  disclosed  the  matter,  which 
was  agreed  to  by  my  brother  and  sister,  and 
on  the  seventh  we  set  sail  in  a  little  bark 
canoe.  While  crossing  Lake  St.  Peters,  we 
came  nigh  landing  on  the  shores  of  eterni- 
ty. The  waves  were  raised  to  an  enormous 
height  by  the  wind,  and  often  broke  over 
the  canoe.  My  brother  and  sister  were  pale 
as  ghosts,  and  we  all  expected  immediate 
destruction  ;  but  the  arm  of  salvation  was 
extended  for  our  relief,  and  we  reached  the 
shore.  We  were  four  days  in  this  voyage, 
and  received  obliging  civilities  every  night, 
at  French  settlements  \  on  the  eleventh,  we 
arrived  at  Montreal,  where  I  had  the  su- 
preme satisfaction  of  meeting  my  husband, 
children,  and  friends.  Here  I  had  the  hap- 
piness to  find,  that  all  my  fellow  prisoners 
had  been  purchased,  by  gentlemen  of  res- 
pectability, by  whom  they  were  treated 
with  great  humanity.  Mr.  Du  Quesne 
bought  my  sister,  my  eldest  daughter  was 
owned  by  three  affluent  old  maids,  by  the 
name  of  Jaisson,  and  the  other  was  owned 
by  the  mayor  of  the  city. 

Mr.  Johnson  had  obtained  the  privilege 


w 


^  ,i  I' 


% 


63 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


.(*    ii 


1      i 

^  ir  ' 


I' 


of  two  months'  abscence  on  parole,  for  the 
purpose  of  going  to  Neiv-Englarul,  to  pro- 
cure cash  for  the  redemption  of  his  faauly  ; 
he  sat  out  on  his  journey  the  day  after  my 
arrival  at  Montreal.  Mr  Du  Quesne  en- 
gaged to  supj)ly  his  family  with  necessaries, 
during  his  absence,  and  was  to  be  recom- 
pensed at  his  return.  Directly  after  his  de- 
parture, I  found  myself  doomed  to  fresh 
trouble.  The  Indians  brought  me  here  for 
the  purpose  of  exchanging  me  for  some  Mi- 
canaw  savages,  a  tribe  with  whom  they  were 
at  war  ;  but  being  disappointed  in  this,  they 
were  exorbitant  in  their  demands,  and  re- 
fused to  lake  less  than  a  thousand  livres  for 
me  and  my  child.  Mr.  Du  Quesne  fixed  his 
offer  at  seven  hundred,  which  was  utterly 
refused  bv  mv  savao-e  masters.  1'heir  next 
•  step  was  to  threaten  to  carry  ive  back  to  St. 
Francis.  After  halt  a  day's  surly  delibera- 
tion, ti  ey  concluded  to  take  the  oifered  sum. 
I  was  received  into  Mr  Du  Que^ne's  family. 
My  joy  at  being  delivered  from  savage  cap- 
tivity was  unbounded.  From  tiiis  period, 
Indians  and  sufferings  were  no  more  to  tor- 
ture me,  or  my  family,  except  the  unfortu- 
nate Sylvanus.  The  fond  idea  of  liberty, 
held  forth  its  dazzling  pleasures,  and  the  ig- 
norance of  future  calamities,  precluded  ev- 
ery cloud,  that  could  obscure  its  effulgence. 
On  Mr  Johnson's  journey  to  New-England 


MRS.    JOHNSOIV. 


6sr 


.  for  the 
,  to  pro- 

ifter  my 
esne  en- 
;essaries, 
B  recom- 
r  liis  de- 
to  fresh 
here  for 
otne  Mi- 
iieywere 
liis,  they 

and  re- 
ivres  for 
fixed  his 
s  utterly 
leir  next 

k  to  St. 
lelibera- 
red  sum. 
5  familv. 
'age  cap- 

j)eriod, 
e  to  tor- 
unfortu- 

liberty, 
d  the  ig- 
ided  ev- 
ulgence. 
England 


I  rested  all  my  hope,  and  felt  full  confidence 
in  being  relieved  at  his  return. 

In  justit  e  to  the  Indian-^.  I  ought  to  re- 
mark, that  they  never  treated  me  with  cru- 
elty to  a  wanton  decree  ;  few  people  have 
survived  a  si  nation  like  mine,  and  few  have 
fallen  into  the  h  incls  of  sava^ires  disposed  lo 
more  lenity  and  patience.  Modesty  has  ev- 
er been  a  characteristic  of  every  savage 
tribe  ;  a  truth  which  my  whole  family  will 
join  to  corroborate,  to  the  extent  of  their 
knowledge.  As  they  are  aptly  called  the 
children  of  nature,  those  who  have  profit- 
ed bv  refinement  and  education,  ou<j[ht  to  a- 
bate  part  of  the  prejudice,  which  promps 
them  to  look  with  an  eye  of  censure  on  this 
untutored  race.  Can  it  be  said  of  civilized 
conquerors,  that  they,  in  the  main,  are  vinl- 
ling  to  share  with  their  prisoners,  the  last 
ration  of  food,  when  famine  stares  them  in 
the  face  ?  Do  they  evei  adopt  an  enemy, 
and  salute  him  by  the  tender  name  of  broth- 
ery  ?  And  I  am  justified  in  doubting, 
whether  if  I  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
French  soldierv,  so  much  assiduity  would 
have  been  shewn,  to  preserve  my  life. 

CHAP.    VI. 

Mr.  Johnson's  Tour  to  Boston^  and  Portsmouth,  and  the 
Catastrophe  at  his  leturn.     Arrival  at  the  Prison  in  Quebec. 

The  reader  will  leave  me  and  my  family^^ 
under  the  care  of  our  factor,  a  short  time. 


64 


CAPTIVITY   OF 


;,  •  i 


and  proceed  with  Mr  Johnson.  On  the  12th 
of  November,  he  sat  ont  for  Albany,  accom- 
panied by  two  Indians  for  pilots,  lor  whose 
fidelity  the  commander  in  chief  was  res- 
ponsible. They  were  to  tarry  at  Albany 
till  his  return.  In  a  short  time  I  had  a  let- 
ter from  Col.  Lydius,  informing  me  that  he 
had  safely  arrived  at  Albany,  and  had  gone 
to  Boston.  His  first  step  was  to  apply  to 
Governor  Shirley,  for  money  to  redeem  his 
family,  and  the  English  prisoners.  Shir- 
lev  laid  his  matter  before  the  General  As- 
sembly,  and  they  granted  the  sum  of  ten 
pounds,  to  defray  his  expenses.  He  got  no 
further  assistance  in  Massachusetts,  and  was 
advised  to  apply  to  the  government  of  N. 
Hampshire.  Gov.  Wentworth  laid  the  mat- 
ter before  the  General  Assembly  of  that 
state,  and  the  sum  of  150  pounds  sterling, 
was  granted  for  the  purpose  ol  redemption 
of  prisoners.  The  committee  of  the  Gen- 
eral Court  of  New-Hampshire  gave  him  the 
following  directions. 

Portsmouth,  N.  H.  Jan.  25,  1755. 

Mr  James  Johnson,  Sir — Agreeablee  to 
your  letter  to  the  Secretary,  of  the  16th 
instant,  you  have  enclosed  a  letter  to  Col. 
Cornelius  Cuyler,  Esq.  in  which  you  will 
observe  we  have  given  you  credit,  for  let- 
ters on  his  acquaintance  in  Canada,  to  fur- 
nish you  with  credit,  to  the  amount  of  160 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


65 


I 


he  12lh 
accom- 
r  whose 
iras  res- 
Albany 
id  a  let- 
that  he 
ad  gone 
ipply  to 
ieem  his 
.  Shir- 
eral  As- 
1  of  ten 
3  got  no 
and  was 
It  of  N. 
the  mat- 
of  that 
;terling, 
^mption 
le  Gen- 
him  the 

1755. 

nblee  to 
he  I 6th 

to  Col. 
ou  will 

for  let- 
,  to  fur- 
l  of  150 


pounds  sterling.     We  therefore  advise  you 
to  proceed  to  Albany,  and  on  your  arrival 
there,  deliver  the  said  letter  to  Col.  Cuyler, 
and  take  from  him  such  credit  as  he  shall 
give  you,  on  some  able  person  or  persons, 
in  Canada,  and  when  you  are  thus  furnish- 
ed,  you  will  then  proceed  to  Canada,  and 
there  negotiate,  in  the  best  and  most  fru- 
gal manner  you  can,  the  purchasing  such, 
and  so  many  captives,  as  you  may  hear  of, 
that  have  been  taken  from  any  part  of  this 
province,  taking  care  that  the  aforesaid  sum 
agreeable  to  the  grant  of  the  General  As- 
sembly here,  be  distributed,  to  and  for  the 
purchasing  all  the  said  captives,  that  are  to 
be  come  at,  in  the  most  equal'  and  exact 
manner,   that  none   may  be  left   there  for 
want  of  their  quota  of  said  money.     The 
captive's  names,  and  places  from  whence  ta- 
ken; that  we  have  information  of,  you  have 
herewith  of,  for  your  direction.     You  are 
to  keep  an  exact  account  of  the  distribution 
of  this  money,  in  order  to  your  future  dis- 
charge. 

If  Col.  Cuyler  should  not  be  living,  or  re- 
fuse you  his  good  offices  in  this  affair,  you 
are  then  to  apply  to  the  Hon, Saun- 
ders, Esq.  Mayor  of  the  city  of  Albany,  or 
any  other  person  that  can  give  you  credit 
at  Canada,  and  leave  with  them  our  letter 
to  Col.  Cuyler,  which  shall  oblige  us  to  pay 
the  said  sum  or  sums,  mentioned  in  the  said 


^1 


I 


m 


'  i 


!'; 


'-   ''i 

i^^' 

ii 

.    1 

Ik 

' '.! 

.    i 

■  sE^' 

";i 

i 

In'^l 

ij 

Iff  ^  '^ 

*»'  ' 

!'!| 

ii 

i   ■ 

66 

letter,  to  such 
and 


CAPTIVITY   OF 

person,  and  in  the 
as  we  have  obliged 


same  way 
ourselves 


Corn- 


manner, 
to  pay  him. 

iVe  are  your  friends, 

THEODOREATKINOSON,  ] 
S.  WIBERT,  I 

MESHECH  WEARE,  f 

BENJ.   SHERBURN,  jun.    j 

A  List  of  the  Captives,  taken  from  the  Prov-' 
ince  of  New-Hampshire,  by  the  St.  Fran-* 
cis  Indians,  in  the  summer  1754. 

From  Charlestown,  on  Connecticut,  Riv-* 
er.  James  Johnson,  his  wife,  and  four  chil- 
dren. Peter  Labarree,  Ebenezer  Farns- 
worth.     Miriam  Willard. 

From  Merrimack  River.  Nathaniel  Mal- 
loon,  his  wife  and  three  children.  Robert 
Barber,  Samuel  Scribner,  Enos  Bishop. 

In  addition  to  this  letter  of  credit,  Gov. 
Wentworth  gave  him  the  following  pass- 
port. 

Province  of  JVew-Hampshire;  in  New-England, 

By  his   Excellency    Benning    Wentworth, 

Esq.  Captain  General,  Governor,  and 

L.  S,  Commander  in  Chief,  in  and  over 

his  Britannic  Majesty's  Province  of 

New-Hampshire  aforesaid,  and  Vice-Admi- 

ral  of  the  same,  and  Surveyor  General  of  all 

Woods,  in  North-America  : 


jesty 


Jc 


MRS.     JOHNSON. 


67 


m 


me  way 
mrselve* 


Cam. 


le  Prov-^ 
it.  Fran-' 

ut,  Riv-* 
>ur  chil- 
Farns- 

liel  Mai- 
Robert 
iiop. 
it,  Gov. 

ig  pass- 

and, 

tworth, 
ior,  and 
nd  over 
vince  of 
5-Admi- 
al  ol  all 
rica  : 


Whereas,  the  St  Francis  and  other  In- 
dians did,  in  the  summer  lasipast,  captivate 
sundry  of  his  Majesty's  subjects,  inhabit- 
ants of  this  Province,  and  have,  as  I  have 
been  informed,  sold  the  same  to  the  subjects 
of  the  French  King  in  Canada,  where  they 
are  now  detained  in  servitude  ;  and  having 
had  application  made  to  me,  by  Mr.  James 
Johnson,  of  Charlestown,  within  this  prov- 
ince, one  of  the  said  captives,  who  obtain- 
ed  leave  to  come  to  this  country,  in  order 
to  purchase  his  own,  and  other  captives' 
liberty.  For  letters  of  safe  passport,  I  do 
hereby  require  and  command,  all  oflficers, 
civil  and  military,  as  well  as  all  other  per- 
sons, thai  they  offer  no  lett  or  hindrance  to 
the  said  James  Johnson,  or  his  company, 
but  contrarywise,  that  they  afford  him  all 
necessary  dispatch  in  said  journey  through 
this  province. 

And  I  do  herebv  also  desire,  that  all  his 
Majesty's  subjects,  of  his  several  other  gov- 
ernments, throucrh  which  the  said  Johnson 
may  liave  occasion  to  travel,  may  treat  him 
with  tliat  civility  that  becometh. 

I  also  hereby  entreat  the  Governor-Gen- 
eral, and  all  other  officers,  ministers  and 
subjects  of  his  most  Christian  Majesty,  gov- 
erninffand  inhabitincr  the  country  and  terri- 
tories  of  Canada  aforesaid,  that  tliev  would 
respectively  be  aiding  and  assisting  to  the 
said  James  Johnson,  in  the  aforesaid  nego- 


I 


V 


68 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


m 


^ 


tiation.  Hereby  engaging  to  return  the 
same  civility  and  kindness,  to  any  of  his 
most  Christian  Majesty's  officers  and  sub- 
jects, when  thereto  requested,  by  any  of  his 
Governors  or  proper  officers.  In  token  of 
which,  I  have  caused  the  public  seal  of  the 
Province  of  New-Hampshire  aforesaid,  to 
be  hereunto  affixed,  this  25th  day  of  Janu- 
ary, in  the  28th  year  of  the  reign  of  our 
Sovereign  Lord  George  II,  of  Great  Brit- 
ain, France,  and  Ireland,  King,  Defender  of 
the  Faith,  &c. 

BENNING  WENTWORTH. 

By  his  Excellency's  Command, 

TEEODORE  ATKINSON,  Sec'y- 
Anno  Domini  1755 

With  these  credentials,  Mr  Johnson  pro- 
ceeded with  alacrity  to  Boston,  procured 
Governor  Shirly's  pasrport,  and  set  forward 
to  Worcester,  on  his  return  back  :  while 
there,  he  was  greatly  astonished  at  receiv- 
ing the  following  letter  from  Governor 
Shirley. 

Boston,  February  15,  1755. 

Mr.  Johnson, — There  have  some  things 
happened  in  our  public  aflairs,  since  your 
going  from  Boston,  with  my  letters  to  the 
Governor  of  Canada,  and  intelligence  come 
of  the  motions  of  the  French  in  Canada, 
for  further  invading  his  Majesty's  territo- 
ries on  the  frontiers  of  New-York  and  New- 
Hampshire,  as  make  it  unsafe  for  you,  as 


urn  the 
y  of  his 
md  sub- 
ny  of  his 
token  of 
al  of ihe 
^said,  to 
of  Janu- 
n  of  our 
eat  Brit- 
ender  of 

RTH. 

Sec'y. 

son  pra- 
)rocured 
forward 
: :  while 
t  receiv- 
overnor 

1755. 

3  things 
ice  your 
s  to  the 
ce  come 
Canada, 
territo- 
id  New- 


MRS.   JOHNSOM. 


69 


well  as  for  the  public,  to  proceed,  at  pres- 
ent, on  your  journey  to  Quebec,  and  there- 
fore I  expect  that  you  do  forthwith,  upon 
receiving  this  letter,  return  back,  and  lay 
aside  all  thoughts  of  going  forward,  on  this 
journey  till  you  have  my  leave,  or  the  leave 
of  Governor  Wentworth,  to  whom  I  shall 
write,  and  inform  him  of  what  I  have  un- 
dertook to  do  in  this  matter,  in  which  his 
Majesty's  service  is  so  much  concerned. 
Your  friend  and  servant, 

W.SHIRLEY. 

Mr.  James  Johnson. 

On  the  receipt  of  this  letter,  he  returned 
with  a  heavy  heart  to  Boston,  and  was  posi- 
tively ordered  by  Shirley,  to  stay  till  fur- 
ther orders.  His  situation  now  was  really 
deplorable.  His  parole,  which  was  only  for 
two  months,  must  be  violated  ;  his  credit  in 
Canada  lost:  his  family  exposed  to  the  mal- 
ice of  exasperated  Frenchmen,  and  all  his 
/r'^od  prospects  at  an  end.  After  using  eve- 
*y  exertion,  in  Boston,  for  leave  to  recom- 
mence his  journey,  and  spending  the  rest  of 
the  winter,  and  all  the  spring,  he  found  his 
efforts  were  in  vain.  During  this  time,  my 
situation  grew  daily  distressing.  Mr.  Du 
Quesne  made  honorable  provision  for  my- 
self, sister  and  child,  till  the  expiration  of 
usband's  narole  :  the  two  Indians  were 


my 


par 


then  sent  to  Albany,  to  pilot  him  back  ;  af- 
youj  as     I     ^j,  waiting  some  time,  and  learning  nothing 


i 


1' 


H 


I  il 


:J|fi  n}; 


nil  h 


■«««h«iMiM«»»<«wiW.-»a,tiitiii  i,t,<h.».M>.«j»ii|»-«'---  ■'!.. 


70 


wAPTIVTT    OF 


li    -■■ 


about  him,  they  returned.  Previous  to  this 
I  had  been  treated  with  great  attention  and 
civility :  dined  frequently  in  the  first  fami- 
lies, received  cards  to  attend  them  on  par- 
ties of  pleasure,  and  was  introduced  to  a 
large  and  respectable  acquaintance.  As  an 
unfortunate  woman,  I  received  those  gener- 
al tokens  of  senerositv  which  flow  from  a 
humane  people.  Among  the  presents  which 
I  received  was  one  of  no  small  magnitude, 
from  Captains  Stowbrow  and  Vambram, 
two  gentlemen  who  were  delivered  by  Maj. 
Washington,  as  hostages,  when  he,  \vith  the 
Virginia  troops,  surrendered  to  the  French 
and  Indians.  In  compliance  with  their  bil- 
let, I  waited  on  them  one  morning,  and  at 
parting  received  a  present  of  148  livres.-- 
Mr.  St.  Ange,  a  French  gentleman  of  for- 
tune and  distinction,  beside  frequent  proofs 
of  his  goodness,  gave  me  48  livres.  In  his 
family  I  formed  an  intimate  acquaintance 
with  a  young  English  lady  who  was  cap- 
tured by  the  Indians  in  the  Province  of 
Maine,  and  sold  to  him  :  she  was  used  with 
parental  tenderness,  and  shared  the  privi- 
leges of  his  children  ;  she  with  his  daugh- 
ter, frequently  came  in  the  morning  carriage 
to  ride  with  me  and  my  sister.  Gratitude 
to  my  numerous  benefactors,  pleads  loudly 
in  favor  of  inserting  all  their  names,  and 
particularizing  every  act  of  generosity.  If 
I  omit  it,  it  must  not  be  imagined  that  I 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


71 


have  forgotten  their  charity  ;  it  has  left  an 
impression  on  my  heart,  that  can  only  be  e- 
rased  with  my  existence. 

I  must  not  omit  a  circumstance  which 
took  place  between  the  lady  of  the  Mayor 
of  the  city  and  myself.  She  had  purchased 
my  daughter  poUy  of  the  Indians,  with  the 
apparent  expectation  of  keeping  her  for  life: 
she  had  put  her  out  to  nurse,  and  when  I 
visited  her,  her  cries  to  go  with  me  were 
troublesome  ;  of  course  1  was  forbid  seeing 
hen  This  was  too  severe — I  applied  to  the 
interpreter  to  conduct  me  to  this  woman, 
and  he  went  witii  me  to  her  house  ;  she  re- 
ceivea  me  with  the  greatest  haughtiness,  and 
gave  me  to  understand  that  the  child  was 
her's,  and  she  would  prevent  my  being  fur- 
ther trouble''  with  it.  I  replied  to  hei  in 
the  feeling  language  of  a  mother,  but  it  had 
no  effect  at  that  time.  A  day  or  two  after- 
wards, the  interpreter  brought  word  from 
the  woman,  that  I  had  softened  her  heartj 
and  might  have  my  child.  I  received  with 
it  considerable  good  clothing,  and  the  wo- 
man asked  nothing  for  all  her  trouble. 

While  in  Mr.  Du  Quesne's  family,  my  lit- 
tle daughter  was  very  unwell,  and  the  su- 
perstitious people  were  convinced  that  she 
would  either  die,  or  be  carried  off  by  the 
Devil,  unless  babtized.  I  yielded  to  their 
wishes,  and  they  prepared  for  the  ceremony, 
with  all  the  appendages  annexed  to  their 


P# 


.,,»*#ift^^" 


■»jjKWl^^|lltWfii|»»i*iMM*<W 


72 


CAPTIVITY  OF 


[\i 


religion.  Mr.  Da  Quesne  was  godfather, 
and  the  young  English  lady  godmother  ;  by 
Mrs.  Du  Quesne's  particular  request,  she 
was  christened  Louise,  after  herself — to 
which  I  added  the  name  of  Captive. 

The  return  of  the  Indians,  without  Mr. 
Johnson,  boded  no  good  to  me.  I  observed 
with  pain,  the  gradual  change  in  my  friends 
from  coldness  to  neglect,  and  from  neglect 
to  contempt.  Mr.  Du  Quesne,  who  had  the 
most  delicate  sense  of  honor,  supposed  tiiat 
he  had  designedly  broken  his  parole,  and  a- 
bused  his  confidence  ;  he  refused  to  grant 
me  further  assistance,  or  even  to  see  my  face. 
I  now  found  myself  friendless  and  alone  ; 
not  a  word  had  t  heard  Irom  Mr.  Johnson, 
not  a  word  had  I  heard  from  my  little  son, 
with  the  Indians.  Affliction  lowered  upon 
me,  with  all  its  horrors  ;  in  this  dilemma, 
my  sister  and  I  agreed  to  take  a  small  room, 
and  support  ourselves,  till  our  little  store  of 
cash  was  expended,  and  then  have  recourse 
to  our  needles. 

In  the  beginning  of  April,  the  Indians 
made  a  second  tour  to  Albany,  in  quest  of 
Mr.  Johnson,  and  again  returned  without 
him.  I  wrote  to  Col.  Lydius  for  informa- 
tion, but  he  could  tell  nothing.  Darkness 
increased  ;  but  !  summoned  all  my  resolu- 
tion, and  indulged  the  fond  hope  of  being 
soon  relieved.  We  kept  our  little  room  till> 
June,  when  I  had  Uie  happiness  to  hear  that 


■.\ 


MRS.     JOHNSON. 


7$ 


father, 
er  ;  by 
st,  she 
elf— to 

)ul  Mr. 
)served 
friends 
neglect 
had  the 
jed  that 
r,  and  a- 

0  grant 
ny  face. 

1  alone  ; 
ohnson, 
;tle  son, 
ed  upon 
demma, 
I  room, 
store  of 
'ecourse 

Indians 
[quest  of 

ithout 
nlorma- 

arkness 

resolu- 
if  being 

om  till, 
lear  that 


my  husband  was  without  the  city,  waiting 
for  permission  to  come  in.   He  was  conduct- 
ed in  by  a  jile  of  men  ;  his  presence  banish- 
ed care  and  trouble,  and  turned  the  tear  of 
sorrow  to  the  effusion  of  joy  ;  after  the  joy 
of  meeting  had  subsided,  he  related  his  sad 
fate  in  New-England.      He  finally  got  per- 
mission from  Gov.  Wentworth  to  come  pri- 
vately, by  the  way   of  Albany,   where  he 
took  his  bills,  drawn  by  Mr.  Cuyler,  on  Mr. 
St.  Luc  Luccorn,  and  Mr.  Rine  Du  Quesne 
The  face  of  affairs  in  Canatia  had  material- 
ly changed  ;  during  his  absence  a  new  Gov- 
ernor had  been  sent  over,  and  various  man- 
oevres  in  politics  liad  taken  place,  which 
were  very  injurious  to  him.     Had  the  old 
Governor  tarried,  his  abscence  would  have 
probably  been  excused.     But   Mons.   Vau- 
drieul  was  ignorant  of  the   conditions  on 
which  he  vent  home,  and  could  not  admit 
apologies,    for  the  breach  of  his  parole. — 
Our  disappointment  and  mortification  were 
severe,  when  we  found  our  bills  protested. 
This  reduced  us  at  once  to  a  beggarly  state. 
The  evil  was  partially  remedied  by  St.  Luc- 
orn's  lending  us  paper  money,  while  we 
could  send  some  Indians  to  Mr.  Cuyler  for 
silver.     Mr.  Johnson  received  orders  to  set- 
tle his  afiairs,  with  all  possible  dispatch. 

Spirited  preparations  were  now  making 
for  vv^ar.  General  Dieskau  arrived  froia 
France,  with  an  army,  and  Montreal  was  a 


. 


1 


II  ai...mmiw^k  iraiii 


;■ 


m. 


•  I'  & 


[ 


■  \  \ 


5r     ?      ' 


'I 


n 

it  i 

II 


!l 


74 


CAPTIVITY  OF 


scene  of  busy  confusion.  We  were  com- 
pleting our  Settlements,  with  our  paper  ex- 
pecting to  have  full  permission  to  go  home, 
when  the  Indians  returned.  But  the  meas- 
ure of  our  misery  was  not  yet  full.  In  the 
beginning  of  July  Mr.  Johnson  was  put  in- 
to jail.  Terrible  to  me  was  this  unexpect- 
ed stroke;  without  moiM  ,%  —edit  or  friends, 
I  must  now  roam  the  streets,  TUhout  a  pros- 
pect of  relief  from  the  cloud  of  misfortune 
that  hung  over  me.  In  a  few  days,  the 
faithful  Indians,  who  had  been  sent  to  Mr. 
Cuyler  for  the  silver,  returned,  with  438 
dollars,  with  an  order  on  St.  Luc  Lucorne, 
for  700  additional  livres  ;  but  he  took  the 
whole  into  possession,  and  we  never  after 
received  a  penny  from  him. 

Half    distracted,   and   almost   exhausted 
wikii  despair  and  grief,  I  went  to  the  Gov- 

listress  and  ask  relief. 


paint  our 


ernor,  to 

i  iound  him  ol  easy  access,  and  he  heard 
my  lamentable  story  with  seeming  emotion  ; 
his  only  promise  was  to  take  care  of  us, 
and  at  parting  gave  me  a  crown,  to  buy 
milk  for  my  babes.  Ignorant  of  our  desti- 
ny, my  sister  and  I  kept  our  little  room,  and 
were  fortunate  enough  to  get  subsistence 
from  day  to  day — Often  going  to  the  gloo- 
my prison,  to  see  my  poor  husband,  whose 
inlsfortuncs  in  Boston  had  brought  him  to 
this  wretchedness. 

Our  own  misfortunes  had  taught  us  how 


^^ 


\^      V 


MRS.  JOHNSOrf. 


75 


•e  «om- 
!iper  ex- 
0  home, 
le  meas- 
In  the 
3  put  in- 
nexpect- 
friends, 
it  a  pros- 
isfortune 


ays. 


the 


it  to  Mr. 
with  438 
Lucorne, 
took  the 
fver  after 

txhausted 
the  Gov- 
sk  relief, 
he  heard 
emotion  ; 
we  of  us, 

, to  buy 
our  desti- 
•ooni,  and 
ibsistence 
the  gloo- 

d,  whose 
ht  him  to 


1 


it  us  how 


to  feel  for  the  sufferings  of  others,  and  large 
demands  were  now  made  on  our  sympathet- 
ic powers.  Just  as  we  were  plunged  into 
this  new  distress,  a  scout  of  savages  brought 
a  number  of  prisoners  into  Montreal,  which 
were  our  old  friends  and  acquaintance. — 
Two  children  from  Mr.  U.  Grout's  family, 
;md  two  children  belonging  to  Mrs.  How, 
the  fair  captive,  celebrated  in  Col.  Hum- 
phrey's life  of  Putnam.  Their  names  were 
Polly  and  Submit  Phips.  Mrs.  How  was 
then  a  prisoner  at  St.  Johns,  with  six  other 
children,  and  one  Garfield.  Thev  v/ere  all 
taken  at  Hinsdale. — Mrs.  How's  daughters 
were  purchased  by  Mons.  Vaudrieul,  the 
Governor,  and  had  every  attention  paid 
their  education.  After  a  year's  residence  in 
Montreal,  they  were  sent  to  the  grand  nun- 
nery in  Quebec,  where  my  sister  and  I  made 
them  a  visit;  they  were  beautiful  girls,  cheer- 
ful and  well  taught.  We  here  found  two 
aged  English  ladies,  who  had  been  t-ken  in 
former  wars.  One,  by  the  name  of  Wheel- 
right,  who  had  a  brother  in  Boston,  on 
whom  she  requested  me  to  call,  if  ever  I 
went  to  that  place  ;  I  complied  with  her  re- 
quest afterwards,  and  received  many  civil- 
ities from  her  brother^  Our  meeting  was 
a  scene  of  sorro'v  and  melancholy  pleasure. 
All  were  now  tlocking  to  the  standard  of 
war.  The  Indians  came  from  all  quarters, 
thirsting  for  English  blood,  and  receiving 


11 ' 


!«>■    'i 


.r-j 


76 


CAPTIVITY    OP 


instruction  from  the  French.  A  number  of 
tribes,  with  all  their  horrid  weapons  of  war, 
paraded,  one  morning,  before  the  General's 
house,  and  held  the  war  dance,  and  filled 
the  air  with  infernal  yells,  after  which,  in  a 
formal  manner,  they  took  the  hatchet  a- 
gainst  the  English,  and  marched  for  the  field 
of  battle.  Alas  !  my  poor  countrymen, 
thoii<jht  I,  how  many  of  you  are  to  derive 
misery  from  these  monsters. 

On  the  22d  of  July,  Mr.  Johnson  was  ta- 
ken from  the  jail,  and  with  myself  and  our 
two  youngest  children,  were  ordered  on 
board  a  vessel  for  Quebec?.  To  leave  our 
friends  at  Montreal,  was  a  distressing  affair  ; 
my  sister's  ransom  had  been  paid,  but  she 
could  not  go  with  us.  She  went  into  the 
family  of  the  Lieut.  Governor,  where  she 
supported  herself  with  her  needle.  My  el- 
dest daughter  was  still  with  the  three  old 
maids,  who  treated  her  tenderly.  Labaree 
and  Farnsworth  had  paid  the  full  price  of 
their  redemption,  but  were  not  allowed  to 
fijo  home.  Not  a  word  had  we  heard  yet 
from  Sylvanus.  We  parted  in  tears,  igno- 
rant of  our  destination,  but  little  thinking 
tliat  we  were  to  embarkfor  a  place  of  wretch- 
edness and  woe.  After  two  days  good  sail- 
ing, we  arrived  at  Quebec,  and  were  all  con- 
ducted directly  to  jail. 


iber  of 
^f  war, 
jneral's 
d  filled 
d1i,  in  a 
chet  a- 
he  field 
;rymen, 
)  derive 

was  ta- 
and  our 
3red  on 
ave  our 
g  affair  ; 
but  she 
into  the 
lere  she 
My  el- 
hree  old 
Labaree 
price  of 
owed  to 
ard  yet 
rs,  igno- 
hinking 
wretch- 
ed sail- 
all  cou- 


MRS.  JOHNSON.  77 

CHAP.    VII. 

Six  months  residence  in  the  Criminal  Jail^and  removal  to  thp 
Civil  Prison. 

We  now,  to  our  indescribable  pain,  found 
the  fallacy  of  Mr.  Governor's  promises,  for 
our  welfare.  This  jail  was  a  place  too  shock- 
ing for  description.     In   one  corner  sat  a 
poor  being,  half  head  with  the  small  pox; 
in  another  were  some  lousy  blankets  and 
straw  ;  in  the  centre  stood  a  few  dirtv  dish- 
es,  and  the  whole  presented  a  scene  misera- 
ble to  view.     The  terrors  of  starvation,  and 
the  fear  of  suffocating  in  filth,   were  over- 
powered by  the  more  alarming  evil  of  the 
small  pox,  which  none  of  us  had  had.     But 
there  was  no  retreat,  resignation  was  our 
only  resource  ;  the  first  fortnight  we  wait- 
ed anxiouslv  for  the  attacks  of  the  disease* 
in  which  time  we  w^ere  supported  by  a  small 
piece  of  meat  a  day,  which  was  stewed  with 
some  rusty  crusts  of  bread,  and  brought  to 
us  in  a  pail  that  swine  would  run  from. — 
The   straw  and  lousy  blankets  were  our 
only  lodging,  and  the  rest  of  our  furniture 
consisted  of  some  wooden  blocks  for  seats. 
On  the  fifteenth  day  1  was  taken  with  the 
small  pox,  and  removed  to   the  hospital  ; 
ler.ving  my  husband  and  two  children  in  the 
horrid  prison.     In  two  days  Mr.  Johnson 
put  my  youngest  child,    Captive,  out  to 


i 

V, 

.:4 


td 


|i 


141 


^'% 


78 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


I:  ;l 


Ic?  ; 


nurse.  The  woman  kept  thp  child  but  a 
few  days  before  she  returned  it,  owing  to  a 
mistrust  that  she  should  not  get  her  pay. — 
But  should  it  remain  in  prison,  certain  death 
must  be  its  portion.  Her  father  was  redu- 
ced to  the  sad  necessity  of  requesting  her  to 
carry  it  to  the  Lord  Intendant,  and  tell  him 
that  he  must  either  allow  her  a  compensa- 
tion for  keeping  it,  or  it  must  be  left  at  his 
door.  The  good  woman  dressed  it  decent- 
ly, and  obeyed  her  orders.  Mr.  Inlendant 
smiled  at  her  story,  and  took  the  child  in 
his  arms^  saying,  it  was  a  pretty  little  En- 
glish devil,  it  was  a  pity  it  should  die  ;  he 
ordered  his  clerk  to  draw  an  order  for  its 
allowance,  and  she  took  good  care  of  it  till 
the  last  of  October,  except  a  few  days  while 
it  had  the  small  pox. 

A  few  days  after  I  left  the  prison,  Mr. 
Johnson  and  my  other  daughter  were  taken 
with  symptons  and  came  to.  the  hospital  to 
me.  It  is  a  singular  instance  of  Divine  In- 
terposition, that  we  all  recovered  from  this 
malignant  disease.  We  were  remanded  to 
prison,  but  were  not  compelled  to  our  for-* 
mer  rl^id  confinement.  Mr.  Johnson  was 
allowed,  at  ertain  times,  to  go  about  the 
city,  in  quest  of  provision.  But  on  the  20th 
of  October,  St.  Lucorne  arrived  from  Mon- 
treal, with  the  news  of  Dieskau's  defeat ; 
he  had  ever  since  my  husband's  misfortune, 
about  his  parole,  been  his  persecuting  ene- 


sevei 
on  o 
defei 
two 
lousy 


k:' 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


79 


K 


\  hut  a 
ng  to  a 
pay.— 
n  death 
IS  redu- 
r  her  to 
tell  him 
nnpensa- 
ft  at  his 
;  decent- 
ilendant 
child  in 
Lttle  En- 
die;  he 
er  for  its 
I  of  it  till 
ys  while 

son,  Mr. 
;re  taken 
>spital  to 
ivine  In- 
Tomthis 

sanded  to 
our  for-^ 
son  was 
bout  the 
the  20th 
om  Mon- 
defeat ; 
sfortune, 
iting  ene- 


my.    By  his  instigation  we  were  all  put  di- 
rectly to  close  prison. 

The  ravages  of  the  sm'^.U  pox  reduced  usf 
to  the  last  extremity,  and  the  foetid  prison^ 
without  fire  or  food,  added  bitterness  to  our 
distress.  Mr.  Johnson  prefered  a  petion  to 
the  Lord  Intendent,  stating  our  melanchol- 
ly  situation.  I  had  the  liberty  of  present- 
ing it  myself,  and  by  the  assistance  of  Mr. 
Perthieur,  the  Interpreter,  in  whom  we  ev- 
er found  a  compassionate  friend,  we  got  some 
small  relief.  About  the  first  of  November 
I  was  taken  violently  ill  of  a  fever,  and  was 
carried  to  the  hospital,  with  my  daughter 
Captive.  After  a  months  residence  there, 
with  tolerable  good  attendance,  I  recover- 
ed from  my  illness,  and  went  back  to  my 
husband.  While  at  the  hospital,  I  found  an, 
opportunity  to  convey  the  unwelcome  tid- 
ings of  our  deplorable  situation  to  my  sis- 
ter, at  Montreal,  charging  her  to  give  my 
b  t  love  to  my  daughter  Susanna,  and  to 
inform  our  fellow  prisoners,  Labarree  and 
Farnsworth,  that  onr  good  wishes  awaited 
them.  Not  a  word  uad  we  yet  heard  from 
poor  Sylvanus. 

Winter  now  began  to  approach,  and  the 
severe  frosts  of  Canada  operated  keenly  up- 
on our  feelings.  Our  prison  was  a  horrid 
defence  from  the  blasts  of  December  ;  with 
two  chairs  and  a  heap  of  straw,  and  two 
lousy  blankets,  we  may  well  be  supposed  to 


h 


'1' 


'1 

ji?' 

1 

tiji 

'I 

IW  H 

•'1 

',■  .i 

'  ■  '■ 

i 

,11 

•t 


c.'. 


If: 


.,-,«iit»*°'- 


!      ! 


$mA  I 


V         N 


80 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


live  uncomfortably  :  but  in  addition  to  this, 
we  had  but  one  poor  lire  a  day,  and  the  iron 
grates  gave  iree  access  to  the  chills  of  the 
inclement  sky.  A  quart  bason  was  the  only 
thing  allowed  us  to  cook  our  small  piece  of 
meat  and  dirty  crui^ts  in,  and  it  must  serve 
at  the  same  time  for  table  furniture.  In  this 
sad  plight— a  prisoner — in  jail — winter  ap- 
proaching—conceive reader,  for  I  cannot 
speak  our  distress. 

Our  former  benevolent  friends,  Captains 
Stowbrow  and  Vambram,  had  the  peculiar 
misfortune  to  be  cast  into  prison  opposite  to 
us.  Suspicion  of  having  corresponded  with 
their  countrymen,  was  tlie  crime  with  which 
they  w^ere  charged.  Ilieir  misfortune  did 
not  preclude  tlie  exertion  of  generosity  ; 
they  frequently  sent  us,  by  tine  waiting  maid, 
bottles  of  wine,  and  articles  of  provision. — 
But  the  malice  of  Frenchmen  had  now  ar- 
rived to  such  a  pitch,  against  all  our  coun- 
try., thai  we  must  be  deprived  of  these  com- 
forts. These  good  men  were  forbidden  their 
offices  of  kindness;,  and  our  intercourse  was 
entirely  prohibited.  We  liowever  found 
means,  by  a  stratagem,  to  effect  in  some 
Bieasure,  what  coidd  not  be  done  by  open 
dealing.  When  the  servants  were  carrying 
in  our  daily  supplies,  we  slipped  into  the 
entry,  and  deposited  our  letters  in  an  ash 
box,  which  were  taken  by  our  friends,  they 
leaving  one  at  the  same  time  for  us  5^  this 


; 


MR«.    JOHNSON, 


81 


1  to  this, 
the  iron 
Is  of  the 
the  only 
.  piece  of 
list  serve 
In  this 
inter  ap- 
I  cannot 

Captains 
^  peculiar 
3posite  to 
Kled  with 
iih  which 
:tune  did 
nerosity  ; 
ingmaid, 
ivisionc — 
:1  now  ar- 
our  coun- 
hes-e  com- 
Iden  tlieir 
oiirsiC  was 
^^er  found 
:  in  some 
i  by  o|.)en 
5  carrying 
I  into  the 
in  an  ash 
mds.,  tliey 
I"  us  ^  this 


i^rved  in  some  measure,  to  amuse  a  dull 
hour — sometimes  we  diverted  ourselves  bv 
the  vise  of  Spanish  cards  ;  as  Mr.  Johnson 
was  ignorant  ol  the  game,  I  derived  no  in- 
consiilerable  pleasure  from  instructing  him. 
But  the  vigilance  ol  our  keepers  increased, 
and  our  pnper  and  Ink  were  withlield. — We 
had  now  been  |)risoners  seventeen  months, 
and  our  prospects  were  changing  from  bad 
to  worse  ;  J  ve  months  hade'apsed  since  our 
conlinement  in  this  horrid  receptacle,  ex- 
cept the  time  we  lingered  in  the  liospital. 
Our  jiiilor  was  a  true  descendant  from  Pha- 
raoh  ;  but,  urged  by  impatience  and  despair, 
I  soften  him  so  much  as  to  get  him  to  ask 
Mr.  Perth ieur  to  call  on  us,  VVhen  the 
good  man  came,  we  described  our  situation 
in  all  the  moving  terms  which  our  feelings 
inspired,  which  in  addition  to  what  he  saw, 
convinced  him  of  the  reality  of  our  dis- 
tress. He  proposed  asking  an  influential 
friend  of  In  is  to  call  on  us,  who,  perhaps 
would  devise  some  mode  for  our  reliet. — 
The  next  day  the  gentleman  came  to  see  us  ; 
he  was  one  of  those  good  souls  who  ever 
feel  for  others  woes.  He  was  highly  af- 
fronted with  liiis  countrymen  for  reducing 
us  to  such  distress,  and  declared  that  the 
Lord  Intendant  himself  should  call  on  u«, 
and  see  the  extremities  to  which  he  had  re- 
duced us  ;  he  sent,  from  his  own  house,  that 

t; 


' '(, 


i  i 


CAPTIVITY   OF 


night,  a  kettle,  some  candles,  and   each  of 
us  a  change  of  linen. 

The  next  day,  January  8th,  1756,  Mr.  In- 
tendant  came  to  see  us  ;  he  exculpated  him- 
self by  saying  that  we  were  piit  there  by 
the  special  order  of  Mous.  V.mdrieul,  the 
Governor  in  chief,  and  that  he  had  no  au- 
thority to  release  us.  But  he  woidd  con- 
vey  a  letter  from  Mr.  Johnson  to  Monsieur, 
which  might  hc.ve  the  desired  effect.  The 
letter  was  accordingly  written,  stating  our 
troubles,  and   beseeching    relief;    likewise 

f (faying  that  our  son  might  be  got  from  the 
ndians  and  sent  to  us,  with  our  daughter 
and  sister  from  Montreid.  Th?  ^.o  crnor 
returned  the  following  obliging  letter. 

TRANSLATION. 

I  have  received,  Sir,  your  letter,  and  am 
much  concerned  for  the  sitiiation  you  are  in. 
I  wiite  to  Mr.  Lou<jieul,  to  put  you  and 
your  vvife  in  the  civil  jail.  Mr,  L.  Intend- 
ant  will  he  so  good  as  to  take  S(une  notice  of 
the  things  you  sta?id  in  need  of,  and  to  help 
you.  As  o  your  i>oy,  who  is  iu  the  hands 
of  the  Indians,  I  will  do  all  that  is  in  my 
power  to  get  hiiU)  but  I  do  not  ho|)e  to  have 
a  good  success  in  it ;  your  chihi  in  town, 
and  vour  sister  in  law  ate  well.  If  it  is 
some  opportunity  of  doing  you  some  pleas- 
ure, I  will  make  use  of  it,  unless  some  rea- 
son might  ha])pen  that  hinder  aud  stop  the 


each  of 

Mr.  In- 

eil  him- 
here  by 
eul,  the 
I  no  au- 
iM  con- 
onsieiir, 
t.  The 
tine;  our 
likewise 
rom  the 

0  Ci'nor 
er. 


and  am 
u  are  in. 
^^oii   and 
I'ltend- 
otice  of 
to  liclp 
e  hands 
IS  in  my 
10  have 
n  town, 
If  it  is 
lie  pleas- 
)\i\e  rea- 
;top  the 


MRS.     JOHNSON. 


8S 


of 


ill.     If 


effects 

before  given  some  cause  of  heing  suspected, 
you  should  1)3  at  liberty.  I  am,  Sir,  your 
most  humble  servant. 

VAUDRIEUL. 
From  the  receipt  of  this  letter  we  dated 
our  escape  from  (t ireful  '^Ofulage.  Mr.  In- 
tendant  ordered  us  directly  to  tlie  new  jail, 
called  the  civil  prison,  where  our  accommo- 
dations were  iufinitely  l)etter.  We  had  a 
decent  bed,  candles,  fuel,  and  all  the  con- 
veniences belonging  to  prisoners  of  war. — 
Mr.  Johnson  was  allowed  fifteen  pence  per 
day,  on  account  of  a  Lieutenant's  commis- 
sion which  lie  held  under  George  the  sec- 
ond, and  I  was  permitted  to  go  once  a  week 
into  the  city  t)  j)urchase  necessaries  ;  and  a 
washerwoman  was  provided  for  my  use. — 
We  were  not  confincvl  to  tiie  narrow  limits 
of  a  single  room,  but  were  restrained  only 
bv  the  bounds  of  the  jail  vard.  Our  situ- 
ation  formetl  such  a  contrast  with  wh  it  we 
endured  in  the  gloomy  criminal  jail,  thjit 
we  imagined  ourselves  the  favorite:^  of  for- 
tune, and  in  high  life. 


C"AP.  VIII. 

Residence  in  the  Civil  Jail,  and  occuneuces  till  the  SOth  •!" 
July,  1767. 

To  be  indolent  from  necessity,  has  ever 
iieen  deemed  u  formidable  evil.     No  better 


I  1^ 


I     s 


i  \ 


Ml  \        -     ! 

1     i 


i\' 


t 


84 


CAPTIVITY    or 


witnesFes  th?*n  r.urselves  can  testify  the 
truth  of  to  /emark,  althonc^h  our  lodgings 
were  now  «uch  as  we  envied  a  month  be- 
fore ;  yet  to  be  coinpel'ed  to  continual  idle- 
ness, was  grievous  to  be  borne.  We  deriv- 
ed some  amusement  from  the  cultivation  of 
a  small  garden,  wiihin  the  jail  yard  ;  but  a 
continued  sameness  of  friends  and  action, 
rendered  our  time  extremely  wearisome. 

About  a  month  alter  our  arrival  at  this 
new  abode,  one  Captain  Milton,  with  his 
crew,  who,  with  their  vessel,  were  taken  at 
sea,  were  broujiht  prisoners  of  war  to  the 
same  place.  Milton  was  lod<ied  in  our  a- 
pariment  ;  he  had  all  the  rude  boisterous 
airs  of  a  seaman,  without  the  least  trait  of 
a  gentleman,  which  rendered  him  a  very 
troublesome  companion.  His  impudence 
was  consummate,  but  that  was  not  tis<^  ijreat- 
est  evil  ;  while  some  new  recruits  were  pa- 
rading before  the  prison,  one  day,  Milton 
addressed  them  in  very  improper  language 
from  our  window,  whi(  h  was  noticed  di- 
rectly by  the  city  authority,  who  sup|)Osing 
it  to  be  Mr.  Johnson,  ordered  him  into  the 
dungeon.  Deej)ly  affected  by  this  new 
trouble,  I  again  called  on  my  friend  Mr 
Perthieur,  who,  after  havin<z  ascertained  the 
facts,  got  him  reieised.  Mr.  Mihon  was 
then  put  into  other  quarters., 

A  new  jailer,  who  had  an  agreeable  lady 
for  his  wife,  nov/  jimde  our  situation  still 


v)r-««"iP,-l|P'. 


rvfTH 


■  r..' 


HilS.    JOHNSOM, 


8^ 


«i> 


fy  the 
idgings 
nth  he- 
al uUe- 
>  deriv- 
ation of 

;  but  a 

action, 
some. 
[  at  this 
,vith  his 
taken  at 
X  to  the 
in  our  a- 
oisterous 
t  trait  of 
n  a  very 
ipudence 

Ur-  areat- 

vvese  pa- 
Milton 

language 

iticed  di- 

[apposing 

into  the 

his  new 
liend   Mr. 

Ainedihe 

lUion  wait 

•able  hidj 
.tion  sti 


mo^e  happy.  My  little  daughters  played 
with  hers,  and  learned  the  French  language. 
But  mv  chilvlren  vveie  some  troidjle — the  el- 
dest, Polly,  conld  slip  out  into  the  street  un- 
der the  gate,  and  often  came  nigh  being  lost: 
I  applied  to  the  centinel,  and  he  kept  her 
within  proper  bounds. 

Capt.  M'Neil  and  his  brother,  from  Bos- 
ton, were  brouoht  to  us  as  prisoners  ;  they 
informed  us  of  the  state  of  politics  in  our 
own  country,  and  told  us  some  interesting 
news  about  some  of  our  friends  at  home. 

la  the  morning  of  the  13th  of  August, 
our  jailer,  with  moon  eyes,  came  to  con- 
gratulate us  on  the  takin<r  of  Oswego  by  the 
French.  We  entered  little  into  his  spirit  of 
joy,  preferring  much  to  hear  good  news 
from  the  other  side.  We  were  soon  visit- 
ed by  some  of  the  prisoners,  who  had  sur- 
renderd.  Col.  Schuyler  was  in  the  num- 
ber, who,  with  the  gentlemen  in  his  suit, 
made  us  a  generous  present. 

The  remain<ler  of  ihe  summer  and  fall,  of 
175S,  passed  oif  without  any  sensible  varia- 
tion. V\  e  frequently  heard  from  Montreal  ; 
mv  sister  was  very  well  situated,  in  the  fam- 
ily  of  the  Lieut.  Governor,  and  my  eldest 
daughter  was  caressed  by  her  three  mothers. 
Could  I  have  heard  f  oin  my  son,  half  my 
trouble  would  have  en(^ed. 

In  December  I  was  Jelivercd  of  u   son. 


w   1 


..^1*»^— 


-h 


it 


il 


/f 


%■ 


MCiir^.«<rf 


CAPTIVTT    OP 


wlaicli  livec!  Init  a  few  hotirs,  and  was  buri- 
ed UKider  the  Cathedral  Clmrch. 

In  the  winter  I  received  a  letter  from  my 
sister,  contjuning  tiie  «ad  ladings  of  niy  fa- 
thers death,  who  was  kil.ed  by  Indians  on 
on  his  own  larin,  the  preceding  June,  at  the 
age  of  53.  Savage  vengeance  fell  heavily 
upon  our  family  ;  I  had  a  brother  wounded 
at  the  same  liuje^  who  ran  to  tlie  fort  witk 
the  spear  ^iticking  in  his  tldt'li.  Too  oiuch 
grief  reduced  me  to  a  weak  condition.  I 
^as  taken  sick,  and  carried  to  the  hospital, 
where,  after  a  month V?  lingering  illuess,  I 
foun^l  mvtself  able  to  return. 

The  commencement  of  the  year  1757 
passed  ofi'  without  a  prospect  of  liberty. — 
Part  of  our  fellow  pi  ir^oners  were  t^ent  to 
France,  but  we  made  no  voyage  out  of  the 
jail  jard.  About  the  first  of  IVIay,  we  pe- 
titioned Mons.  Vaudrieul  to  permit  cur  sis- 
ter to  come  to  u«.  Our  prayer  was  granted 
and  in  May  we  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
her^  after  an  a>»serie  of  tvvo  years.  She  had 
supported  herself  by  i  jr  neecde,  in  the  fam- 
ily of  the  Lieut.  Governor,  where  she  was 
treated  extremely  well,  and  received  a  preg- 
ent  of  four  crowns^  at  parting. 

Impatient  oi  confinement,  we  now  made 
another  attempt  to  gain  our  lii>erty.  Mr. 
Mr.  Perthieur  conducted  us  to  the  house  of 
the  Lord  Intendant,  to  whom  we  petitioned 
in  pressing  terms  ;  stating,  that  we  had  now 


W- 


MB8.    JOHNSOlf. 


87 


\  buri- 

HB  my 
niy  fa- 
ans  on 
,  at  tlie 
leavily 
funded 
rt  wilk 
L)  much 
ion.  I 
ospital, 
lluess,  I 

ir    1757 

jerty. — 
sf  nt  to 

t  of  the 
we  pe- 

cur  aig~ 
granted 
f  seeing 
She  had 
the  fam- 
she  was 
l1  a  prea- 

)W  maJc 
y.  Mr. 
house  of 
-titioned 
had  now 


been  prisoners  almost  three  years,  and  had 
sujfTered  every  thing   but  death  ;    and  that 
would  be  our  speedy  portion,  unle-^s  we  had 
relief.     His  Lordship  li>tened  wiih  seeniing 
pity,  and  promised  to  lay  our  case  before  the 
head  man,  at  iVlontreal,  and  give  ns  an  an- 
swer, in  leven  da\s;    at  the  expiration  of 
which  time,  we  had  a  permit  to  leave  the 
prison.     It  is  not  easy  to  describe  the  effect 
of  such  news  ;    ihosre  only,  who  have  felt 
the  horrors  of  confinement,   can  figure  to 
themselves  the  happiness  we  enjoyed,  when 
breathing,  once  more,  the  air  of  Liberty. 
We  took  lodoinas  in  town,  where  we  tar- 
ried till  the  firijt  of  J^me;  when  a  cartel  ship 
arrived  to   carry  prisoners  to  England  for 
an  exchange,     Mr.  Johnson  wrote  and  ur- 
gent letter  to  Mons.  Vaudricul,  praying  that 
his  fjimily  might    be  included  with    those 
who  were  to  take  passage.     Monsieur  wrote 
a  very  encouraging  letter  back,  promising 
that  he  and  iiis  family  should  sail,  and  that 
his  daughter,   Susaima,  should  be  sent  to 
)iim — he  concluded  by  congratulating  iiim 
on  his   good   pro«^pects,  and  ordering   the 
Governor  of  Qi  ebec  to  afford  us  his  assist- 
ance.    This  letii^r  was  dateil  June  the  27ih. 
This  tide  of  good  fortune  almost  wiped 
away  the  remembrance  of    three  years  ad- 
versity.    We   began    our  prc|mrations  for 
embarkation   with  alacrity.     Mr.  Johnson 
wrote  St.  Luc  Lucorne,  for  the  seven  hun- 


r 


I 

V 

I 

■i 


CAPTlVlTr  ^F 


dred  livres,  due  on  Mr.  Cuyler's  order,  hut 
his  request  was,  and  still  is,  unsatisfied. — 
This  was  a  period  big  with  every  thin<x  pro- 
pitious and  happy.  The  idea  of  leaving  a 
country  where  1  had  suffered  the  keenest 
distress,  during  two  months  and  a  half  with 
the  savages — been  bowed  down  by  every 
mortification  and  insidt,  which  could  arise 
from  the  misfortuhes  of  my  husband,  in 
New-Eno^land  ;  aud  wliere  I  spent  two  year 
in  sickness  and  despair,  in  a  prison  too 
shockintj  to  mention,  contributed  to  fill  the 
moment  with  all  the  hapi)iuess,  which  the 
benevolent  reader  will  conceive  mvdue,  af- 
ter  sulTerings  so  intense  ;  to  consummate  the 
whole,  my  daughter  was  to  be  returned  to 
my  arms,  who  had  been  absent  more  than 
two  years.  There  was  a  good  prospect  of 
our  son*s  being  released  from  the  ludi  uis  ; 
the  whole  formed  such  a  lucky  combination 
of  fortunate  events,  that  tlie  danger  of 
twice  crossins  the  ocean  to  gain  our  native 
shore,  vanished  in  a  moment.  My  family 
were  all  in  the  same  joyful  mood,  and  hail- 
ed the  happy  day  when  we  should  sail  for 
England. 

But  little  did  we  think  that  this  sunshine 
of  prosperity  was  so  soon  to  be  darkened 
by  the  heaviest  clouds  of  misforttme.  Three 
days  before  the  appo.nied  hour  for  sailing, 
the  ship  came  <lown  from  Montreal,  with- 
out my  daughter  \  ir   .  lew  moments,  I  met 


In 

if 

Ol] 

to 
de 

ar 


MUS.     JOHNSON. 


»9 


ler,  hut 
sfied. — 
[n<jr  pro- 

keenest 
aU  with 
y  every 
111  arise 
and,   in^ 
wo  year 
son    too 
)  fill  the 
lich  the 
due,  af- 
iiate  the 
inied  to 
ore  xhan 
)spect  of 
Indi ms  ; 
ibination 
inger   of 
w  native 
y  family 
and  hail- 
1  sail  for 

sunshine 
darkened 
le,  Three 
►r  sailing, 
;al,  with- 
Us,  I  met 


Mr  Perthieur,  who  told  me  that  counter  or- 
ders had  come,  and  Mr.  Johnson  must  be 
retained  a  prisoner  ;  only  my  two  little 
daughters,  sister  and  myself  could  go.  This 
was  calamity  indeed;  to  attempt  such  a  long 
wearisome  voyai^e,  without  money  and 
without  acquaintance,  and  to  leave  a  hus- 
band and  two  children  in  the  hands  of  ene- 
mies. Was  too  abhorrent  for  reflection.  But 
it  WHS  an  affair  of  importance,  and  required 
weighty  consideration;  accordiniily  tlienext 
day  a  soleam  council  of  all  the  prisoners  in 
the  city  was  held  at  the  coffee-house.  Col. 
Schuyler  v/as  presittent,  and  after  numerous 
arguments  for  and  against  were  heard,  it  was 
voted,  by  a  large  majority,  that  1  should  go. 
I,  with  hesitalion,  gave  my  consent.  Some 
perhaj)s,  will  censure  the  measure  as  rash, 
and  others  may  applaud  my  courage  ;  but 
I  had  so  long  been  accustomed  to  danger 
and  distress,  in  the  most  menacing  forms 
they  coul  i  assume,  that  1  was  now  almost 
insensible  to  their  threats  ;  and  this  act  was 
not  a  little  biassed  bv  desperation.  Life 
could  no  longer  retain  its  value,  if  linger- 
ed out  in  tr^e  inimical  regions  of  Canada. — 
In  Europe  I  should^  at  least,  find  friends, 
if  not  acquaintance  ;  and  among  the  numer- 
ous vessels  bound  to  America  I  might  chance 
to  get  a  passage.  But  then,  to  leave  a  ten- 
der husband,  who  had  so  Ions,  at  the  haz- 
ard  of  his  life,  preserved  my  owm  ;  to  part^ 


?! 

i 


I 

I 


;  \ 


i  ii  Mi  ■ 


SO 


CAPTIVITY  OP 


\\ 


perhaps  forever,  from  two  children,  put  all 
my  resolutioii  lo  ihe  test,  and  shook  my 
boasted  firmness. 

Col.  Schuyler,  whom  we  ever  found  our 
benevolent  friend,  promised  to  use  his  in- 
fluence for  Mr.  Johnson's  release,  and  for 
the  redemption  of  our  children. 

On  the  20lh  of  July,  we  went  on  board 
the  vessel,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Johnson, 
who  went  with  us  to  take  leave,  \^e  were 
introduced  to  the  Captain,  who  was  a  gen- 
tleman, and  a  j)erson  of  great  civility  ;  he 
shewed  as  the  best  cabin,  which  was  to  be 
the  place  of  our  residence,  and  after  prom- 
ising my  husband  that  the  voyage  should  be 
miule  as  agreeable  to  me  as  possible,  he  gave 
orders  for  weighing  anchor.  The  time  was 
now  come  tliat  we  must  part — Mr.  Jonn- 
son  took  me  by  tlie  hand — our  tears  impos- 
ed silence — I  saw  him  step  into  the  barge  ; 
but  my  two  little  children,  sister  and  my- 
self were  bound  for  Europe. 

We  fell  down  the  river  St.  Lawrence  but 
a  small  distance  thatnij^ht.  The  next  morn- 
ing,  the  Captain,  witli  a  cheerful  counte- 
nance, came  to  our  cabin,  and  invited  us  to 
rise  and  take  our  leave  of  Quebec  ;  none 
but  myself  complied,  and  I  gazer),  as  long 
as  sight  would  permit,  at  the  place  where  I 
had  left  my  dearest  friend. 

While  in  the  cui;tody  of  the  Canadians, 
ft  number  of  Circumstances  occurred,  wiih 


MRS.  JOHNSON. 


91 


put  all 
ok  iny 

nd  our 
his  in- 
md  for 

board 

Imson, 

e  were 

a  gen- 

V  ;  he 

)  to  be 

prom- 

)iild  be 

le  gave 

me  was 

Joan- 

irnpos- 

l)ari^e  ; 

id  mv- 

ice  but 
inorn- 
ounte- 
l  us  to 
;  none 
IS  long 
^here  I 

idians, 
,  wiih 


which  my  memory  is  not  strongly  impresg* 
ed  :  but  a  dream  which  I  Iiad  while  in  the 
civil  jail,  will  never  be  for<!Otten.  Me- 
thought  that  I  had  two  rintrs  on  one  finger, 
the  one  a  plain  and  the  other  a  diamond 
monrning  rina  :  the  plain  rin^  broke  and 
fell  from  my  finger,  while  the  other  remain- 
ed. My  family  was  now  broke,  and  I  left 
to  mourn. 


CHAP.    IX. 

Voyage  to  Plymouth.    Occurrences.    Sailing  from  Plymouth 
to  Portsmouth,  from  thence  by  the  way  of  Cork  to  N.  Y. 

All  my  fears  and  affliction  did  not  pre- 
vent rnv  feelinop  some  little  jov  at  being  re- 
leased from  the  jurisdiction  )f  Frenchmen. 
I  could  pardon  the  Indians,  for  their  vin- 
dictive spirit,  because  they  had  no  claim  to 
the  benefits  of  civilization.  But  the  French, 
who  give  lessons  of  politeness,  to  the  rest 
of  the  world,  can  d?rive  no  advantage  from 
the  plea  of  ignor«n(  e.  The  blind  super- 
stition which  is  inculcated  by  tfieir  monks 
and  friars,  dotibtless  stifles,  in  some  meas- 
ure, the  exertion  of  pity  towards  their  ene- 
mies ;  and  the  cojnmon  herd,  which  in- 
cludes almost  seven  eighths  of  their  num- 
ber, have  no  advantasjes  from  education. — 
To  these  sources  I  attribute  mo  f  ol  my  suf- 
ferings. But  I  found  £0:ne  benevolent  frier  Is 


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92 


CAPTIYITT    or 


whose  generosity  1  shall  ever  recollect  with 
the  warmest  gratitude. 

The  commencement  of  the  voyage  had 
every  favorable  presa^^e  ;  the  weather  was 
fine,  the  sailors  i  heerful,  and  the  sliip  in 
good  trim.  My  accommodations  in  the 
Captain's  family  were  very  commodious  ; 
a  boy  was  allowed  me,  for  my  particular 
use.  We  sailed  with  excellent  fortune  till 
the  19ili  of  August,  wlien  we  hove  in  sight 
of  old  Plymouth,  and  at  4  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  dropped  anchor. 

The  next  day  all  but  myself  and  family 
were  taken  from  the  vessel  ;  we  felt  great 
anxiety  at  being  left,  and  began  to  fear  that 
fortune  was  not  willing  to  smile  on  us,  even 
on  these  shores  ]  we  waited  in  despair  thir- 
ty or  forty  hours,  and  found  no  relief.  The 
captain  observing  our  despondency,  began 
his  airs  of  gaiety  to  cheer  us  ;  he  nssured  us 
that  we  should  not  suffer— that  if  the  Eu- 
glish  would  not  receive  us,  he  would  take 
us  to  France  and  make  us  happy.  But  at 
last  an  officer  came  on  board,  to  see  if  the 
vessel  was  prepared  for  tie  recej)tion  of 
French  prisoners.  We  related  to  him  our 
situation  ;  he  conducted  us  on  shore,  and  ap- 
j)lied  to  tlie  Admiral  for  directions— who 
ordered  us  lodgings  and  the  King's  allow- 
ance of  two  shillings  sterling  per  day,  lor 
our  support.  Fojlunately  we  were  lodged 
in  a  house  where  resided  Captain  John  Tuf- 


mi 


VRS.  JOHNSON. 


95 


lect  with 

y«?e  had 
^ther  was 
ship  in 
in  ihe 
nodious ; 

articular 
rtune  till 

I  in  slight 
k  in  the 

1  family 
-'t  great 
fear  that 
ns,  even 
air  thir- 
'f.     The 
>  began 
nred  us 
the  Eii- 
ild  take 
But  at 
B  if  the 
ion    of 
im  Our 
ind  ap. 

— who 
allow- 
^y>  ior 
odged 
1  Tuf- 


ton  Mason,  whose  name  will  be  familiar  to 
the  inhabitants  of  New-llampshire,  on  ac* 
count  of  his  patent.  He  very  kindly  inter- 
ested himself  in  our  favor,  and  wrote  to 
Messrs  '1  homlinson  and  Apthorp,  agents  at 
London  for  the  Province  of  New-fJ amp- 
shire,  soliciting  their  assistance  in  my  be- 
half. We  tarried  at  Plymouth  hut  a  fort- 
night, during  which  time  I  received  much 
attention,  and  had  to  gratify  many  inquisi- 
tive friends  with  the  history  of  my  suffer- 
ings. 

Capt.  MdFon  procured  me  a  passage  to 
Portsmouth,  in  the  Rainbow  man  of  war, 
from  whence  I  was  to  take  passage  in  a  pack- 
et for  America.  Just  as  I  stepped  on  board 
the  Rainbow,  a  good  lady,  with  her  son, 
came  to  make  me  a  visit ;  her  curiosity  to 
see  a  person  of  my  description  was  not  aba- 
ted by  my  being  on  my  passage  ;  she  said 
she  could  not  sleep  till  she  had  seen  the  per* 
son  who  had  suflered  such  haid  fortune. — 
After  she  had  asked  all  the  questions  that 
time  would  allow  of,  she  gave  me  a  guinea, 
and  a  half  a  guinea  to  my  sister,  and  a  mus- 
lin handkerchief  to  each  of  our  little  girls. 
On  our  arrival  at  Portsmouth,  the  packet 
had  sailed  ;  the  Captain  of  the  Rainbow, 
not  finding  it  convenient  to  keep  us  with 
him,  introduced  us  on  board  the  Royal  Ann. 

Wherever  we  lived,  we  found  the  best 
friends  and  the  politest  treatment.     It  will 


I 


I. 


I 


94 


ciPTiviTT  or 


x 


I   A 


be  thonffht  singular,  that  a  defenceless  wo- 
man should  siifTer  so  many  changes,  without 
meeting  wiih  some  insults,  and  many  inci- 
vilities. But  during  my  long  residence  on 
board  the  various  vessels,  I  received  the 
most  delicate  attention  from  my  compan- 
ions. The  officers  were  assiduous  in  mak- 
ing my  situation  agreeable,  and  readily 
proffered  their  services. 

While  on  board  the  Royal  Ann,  I  receiv- 
ed the  following  letters  ;  the  reader  will  ex- 
cuse the  recitation  ;  it  would  be  ingratitude 
not  to  record  such  conspicuous  acts  of  be- 
nevolence. 

Plvmouth,  Sept.  13,  1757. 

Madam — Late  last  postnight  I  received  an 
answer  from  Mr  Ap  horp,  who  is  partner 
with  Mr.  'rhomlinson,  tlie  aijcnt  for  New- 
Hampshire,  with  a  letter  enclo-ed  to  you, 
which  gave  you  liberty  to  draw  on  him  for 
fifteen  guineas.  As  Madam  llorncch  was 
just  closing  her  letter  to  you,  I  gave  it  her, 
to  enclose  for  you;  I  now  write  agi.in  to 
London  on  your  beh;df.  You  must  imme- 
diately wri  e  Mr.  Apthorp,  what  you  intend 
to  do,  and  what  further  vou  would  have 
him  and  our  friends  at  London  do  for  you. 

I  hope  you  have  received  the  beneHiction 
of  the  charitable  ladies  in  this  town.  All 
frieadi  here  commiserate  your  misfortunes. 


an 
an 


Mj 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


95 


sless  wo- 

without 
any  inci- 
dence on 
ived  the 
com  pan- 
in  mak- 
readily 


I  receiv- 
•  will  ex- 
^ratitude 
ts  of  be- 

,  1757. 

;eivedan 
partner 
or  New- 
to  you, 
him  for 
ech  was 
e  it  her, 
agLin  to 
t  imme- 
u  intend 
Id  have 
)r  you. 

efliction 
n.     All 

rlunesi 


and  wish  you  well,  together  with  your  sister 
and  children. 

Your  fi  lend  and  conntrvman  to  serve. 

JOHN  T.  MASON. 

Mrs.  Johnson. 

London,  Sept.  7,  1757. 

Madam,  I  received  a  letter  from   Capt. 
Mason,   dated  the  thirtieth  of  last  month, 
giving  an  account  of  your  unfortunate  situ- 
ation, and  ye?jterday  Mr.  Thomlinson,  who 
is  ill  in  the  country,  sent  meyo'ir  letter,  to- 
gether with  Capt.  Mason's  to  him,  with  the 
papers  rehttive  to  you.     In  conseqtience  of 
which,  1  this  day  fipplied   to  a  number  of 
gentlemen  in  your  behalf,  who  very  readily 
gave  their  assistance  ;    but  as  I  am  a  stran- 
ger to  the  steps  you  intend  to  pursue,  1  can 
only  give  you  liberty,  at  present,   to  draw 
on  me  for  ten  or  fifteen  guineas,  for  which 
sum  your  bill  shall  be  paid,  aiul  when  you 
furnish  me   with   information,  I  shall  very 
cheerfully  ^ive  any  furiherance  in  my  pow» 
er,  to  your  relief,  when  i  shall  also  send  you 
a  list  of  your  benefactors. 
I  am.  Madam, 

Your  most  humble  servant, 

JOHN  AFTHORP, 

Mrs.  Susanna  Johnson. 

LETTER  FROM  H.  GROVE. 
I  have  now  the  pleasure  to  let  dear,  Mrs. 


11 


■  I, 


96 


CAPTIVITY    OP 


Johnson  know  the  goodness  of  Mrs.  Hor- 
nech  ;  she  has  collected  seven  pounds  for 
you,  and  sent  it  lo  Mrs.  Brett,  who  lives  in 
the  yard  at  Portsmouth,  to  beg  her  favors 
to  you,  in  any  thing  she  can  do  to  help  or 
assist  you.  She  is  a  good  lady  ;  do  go  to 
her,  and  let  her  know  your  distress.  Capt. 
Mason  has  got  a  letter  this  post,  but  he  is 
not  at  home  ;  cannot  tell  you  further.  You 
will  excuse  this  scrawl,  likewise  my  not  en- 
larging— as  Mr  Hornech  waits  to  send  it  a- 
way.  Only  believe  me,  madam,  you  have 
my  earnest  prayers  to  God,  to  help  and  as- 
sist you.  My  mam^na's  compliments  with 
mine  and  begs  to  wait  on  you,  and  believe 
me,  dear  Mrs.  Johnson,  yours  in  all  events 
to  serve  you. 

HANNAH  GROVE. 

Sunday  Eve,  10  o'clock. 

I  received  the  donation,  and  Mr  Apthorp 
sent  me  the  fifteen  guineas.  I  sincerely  la- 
ment that  he  omitted  senuincr  me  the  names 
of  my  benefactors. 

The  Captain  of  the  Royal  Ann,  suppos- 
ing my  situation  with  him,  might  not  be  so 
convenient,  applied  to  the  mayor,  for  a  per- 
mit for  me  to  take  lodgings  in  the  city, 
which  was  granted.  I  took  new  lodgings, 
where  I  tarried  three  or  four  d^ys,  when 
orders  came  for  me  to  be  on  board  the  Or- 
ange uian  of  war,  in  three  hours,  which  was 
to  sail  for  America.     We  made  all  possible 


rs.  Hor- 
Linds  for 

lives  in 
T  favors 

help  or 
Jo  go  to 
.  Capt. 
)ut  he  is 
jr.  You 
J  not  en- 
end  it  a- 
^ou  have 
3  and  as- 
ints  with 

I  believe 

II  events 

OVE. 

Apthorp 
erely  la- 
le  names 

siippos- 
ot  be  so 
or  a  per- 
he  city, 
odgings, 
yTs,  when 
the  Or- 
■lich  was 
possible 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


97 


\ 


tiJispatch,  but  vf hen  we  got  to  the  shore,  we 
•were  astonished  to  find  the  ship  too  far  un- 
*:ler  way  to  be  overtaken.  No  time  was  to 
be  lost,  I  applied  to  a  waterman,  to  carry  us 
to  a  merchantman,  who  was  weighing  an- 
<:hor  at  a  distance,  to  go  in  the  same  fleet. 
He  hesitated  long  enough  to  pronounce  a 
<;hapter  of  oaths,  and  rowed  us  off.  When 
we  came  to  the  vessel,  I  petitioned  the  Cap- 
tain to  take  us  on  board,  till  he  overtook 
the  Orange.  He  directly  flew  into  a  yio- 
lent  passion,  and  offered  greater  insults  than 
I  had  ever  received  during  my  whole  voy- 
age ;  he  swore  we  w«re  women  of  bad  fame, 
who  wished  to  follow  the  army,  and  that  he 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  us.  I  beg- 
ged him  to  calm  his  rage,  and  we  would 
convince  him  of  his  error.  But,  fortunate- 
ly, the  victualler  of  the  fleet  happened  to  be 
in  the  ship,  who  at  this  moment  stepped  for- 
ward with  his  roll  of  names,  and  told  the 
-outrageous  Captain  that  he  would  soon  con- 
vince him,  whether  we  deserved  notice,  by 
searching  his  list.  He  soon  found  our  names 
and  the  Captain  began  to  beg  pardon.  He 
took  us  on  board,  and  apologized  for  his 
rudeness.  We  sailed  with  a  fair  wind  for 
Cork,  where  the  fleet  took  provision.  We 
carried  a  fortnight  in  this  place,  during 
which  time  the  Captain  of  the  Orange  came 
on  board  to  see  me,  and  to  offer  me  a  birth 
in  his  vessel ;   but  that  being  a  battle  ship, 


11 


p 


98 


CAPTIVITY    OF 


it  was  thought  best  for  me  to  stay  where  I 
then  was.  After  weighing  anchor  at  Cork, 
we  had  a  passage  of  seven  weeks,  remark- 
ably pleasant,  to  New- York.  On  the  tenth 
of  December  we  dropped  anchor  at  Sandy 
Hook  ;  on  the  eleventh,  I  had  the  supreme 
felicity  to  find  myself  on  shore  in  my  native 
country,  after  an  absence  of  three  years, 
three  months,  and  eleven  days. 


THE  HISTORY  ENDS. 


'; 


\ 


I  might  descant  for  many  a  page  on  the 
felicity  I  felt  on  being  once  more  in  my  own 
country  ;  bat  others  can  guess  my  feelings 
better  than  I  can  tell  them.  The  mayor  of 
N  ;w-York  ordered  lodgings  for  us  ;  here  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  my  friend,  Col. 
Schuyler,  who  gave  me  much  information 
about  affairs  in  Canada  ;  he  told  me  that 
my  husband  had  been  released,  and  taken 
passage  in  a  cartel  ship  for  Halifax,  and  that 
lie  had  redeemed  my  son  from  the  Indians, 
for  the  sum  of  five  hundred  livres. 

My  fellow  prisoner,  Labarree,  had  made 
his  escape  from  the  French,  and  had  been  in 
New- York  a  few  days  before,  on  his  way 
home. 

We  tarried  in  New-York  ten  days— then 
took  water  passage  for  New-Haven,  where 
I  had  the  good  fortune  to  find  a  number  of 
officers  who  had  been  stationed  at  Charles- 
town  the  preceding  summer,  who  gratified 


MRS.     JOHNSON. 


99 


where  I 
t  Cork, 
remark- 
le  tenth 
t  Sandy 
sapreme 
y  native 
e  vears, 

;e  on  the 
my  own 
•  feelings 
nayor  of 

;  here  I 
3nd,  Col. 
3rmation 

me  that 
nd  taken 

and  that 

Indians, 

ad  made 
d  been  in 
i  his  way 

tys— then 
n,  where 
lumber  of 
Charles- 
gratified 


my  curiosity  with  intelligence  respecting 
my  relations  and  friends  in  that  place. — 
Some  of  these  gentlemen,  among  whom  was 
Col.  Whiting,  kindly  undertook  to  assist  us 
on  our  jourjiey  home,  by  the  way  of  Spring- 
field. At  Hartford  we  found  some  gentle- 
men who  were  bound  for  Charleston  ;  they 
solicited  my  sister*  to  go  in  company  with 
them,  to  which  she  assented. 

Whenwithinhalf  a  dozen  miles  of  Spring- 
field, Mr.  Ely,  a  benevolent  friend  of  Mr. 
Johnson's,  sent  his  two  sons,  with  a  sleiojh 
to  convey  me  to  his  house,  where  I  propoa^ 
ed  staying  till  some  of  my  friends  could 
hear  of  my  arrival.  Fortunately,  Mr.  John- 
son about  the  same  time  arrived  at  Boston, 
but  misfortune  had  not  yet  filled  the  meas- 
ure of  his  calamilv.  He  had  no  sooner 
landed,  than  he  was  put  under  guard,  on 
suspicion  of  not  performing  his  duty  in  the 
redemption  of  the  Canada  prisoners,  which 
suspicion  was  occasioned  by  his  remissness 
in  producing  his  vouchers.  But  the  follow- 
ing certificate  procured  his  liberty. 

This  is  to  certify,  whom  it  may  concern., 
that  the  bearer,  Lieut.  James  Johnson,  in- 
habitant in  the  town  of  Charlestown,  in  the 
Province  of  New-Hampshire,  m  New-Eng- 
land ;  who,  together  with  Iiis  family,  were 
taken  by  the  Indians  on  the  dOth  of  August 

Bflfi  Mirriam  Willard  was  aflerwardss  marritd  to  t)it  Rer. 
Mt.  Whitaej;  of  Shirley,  MassachuietU. 


r 


m  1 


m. 


100 


CAPTIVTT    OP 


\i 


1754,  has  ever  since  continued  a  steady  and 
faithful  subject  to  his  Majesty  King  George, 
and  has  used  his  utmost  endeavors  to  redeem 
his  own  family,  and  all  others  belonging  to 
the  Province  aforesaid,  that  were  in  the 
hands  of  the  French  and  Indians,  which  he 
cannot  yet  accomplish  ;  and  that  both  him- 
self and  family  have  undergone  innumera- 
ble hardships  and  affliction  since  they  have 
been  prisoners  in  Canada. 

In  testimony  of  which,  we  the  subscri- 
bers, OflScers  in  his  Britannic  Majesty's  ser- 
vice, and  now  prisoners  of  war  at  Quebec, 
have  thought  it  necessary  to  grant  him  this 
certificate,  and  do  recommend  him  as  an  ob- 
ject worthy  the  aid  and  compassion  of  eve- 
ry honest  Englishman. 

PETER  SCHUYLER, 
ANDREW  WATKINS, 
WILLIAM  MARTIN, 
WILLIAM  PADGETT. 
Quebec,  Sept.  16,  1767. 
To  compensate  him  for  this  misfortune, 
Gov.  Pownal  recommended  a  grant,  which 
the  General  Court  complied  with,  and  gave 
him  one  hundred  dollars  from  the  treasury, 
and  he  was  recorded  a  faithful  subject  of 
King  George. 

After  his  dismission  from  the  guards  in 
Boston,  he  proceeded  directly  for  Charles- 
town.  When  within  fifteen  miles  of  Spring- 
field, he  was  met  by  a  gentleman  who  had 


ly  and 
eorge, 
edeetn 
;ing  to 
in  the 
ich  he 
1  him- 
jmera- 
y  have 

ubscri- 
y's  ser- 
tuebec, 
im  this 
s  an  ob- 
of  eve- 

NS, 

^^ 
TT. 

brtune, 

which 

id  gave 

easury, 

ject  of 

ards  in 
Iharles- 
Spring- 
rho  had 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


101 


just  before  seen  me,  who  gave  him  the  best 
news  he  could  have  heard  ;  although  it  was 
then  late  at  night,  he  lost  not  a  moment. — 
At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  first 
of  January  1758,  I  again  embraced  my  dear- 
est friend — happy  new  year,  with  pleasure 
would  I  describe  my  emotions  of  joy,  could 
language  paint  them  sufficiently  forcible  ; 
but  the  feeble  pen  shrinks  from  the  task. 

Charlestown  was  still  a  frontier  town,  and 
suffered  from  savage  depredations,  wliich 
rendered  it  an  improper  residence  for  me; 
consequently  I  went  to  Lancaster. 

Mr.  Johnson,  in  a  few  days,  sat  out  for 
New-York,  to  adjust  his  Canada  accounts. 
But  on  his  journey  he  was  persuaded  by 
Gov.  Pownal  to  take  a  Captain's  commis- 
sion, and  join  the  forces  bound  for  Ticon- 
dero^a  :  where  he  was  killed  on  the  8th  of 
July  followin<T,  in  the  battle  that  proved  fa- 
tal to  Lord  Howe,  while  fighting  for  his 
country.  Humanity  will  weep  with  me. — 
The  cup  of  sorrow  was  now  replete  with 
bitter  drops.  All  my  former  miseries  were 
lost  in  the  affliction  of  a  widow. 

In  October,  1758, 1  was  informed  that  my 
Son  Sylvanus  was  at  Northampton,  sick  of 
a  scald.  I  hastened  to  the  place,  and  found 
him  in  a  deplorable  situation  ;  he  wasbro't 
there  by  Major  Putnam,  afterwards  Gen. 
Putnam,  with  Mrs.  How  and  her  family, 
who   had  returned  from  captivity.      The 


102 


CAPTIVITY  OF 


1 


,M' 


town  of  Northampton  had  taken  the  charge 
of  him — his  situation  was  miserable  ;  when 
I  found  him  lie  had  no  recollection  of  me, 
but  after  some  conversation,  he  had  some 
confused  ideas  of  me,  but  no  remembrance 
of  his  father.  It  was  four  years  since  I  had 
seen  him,  he  was  then  eleven  years  old  ; 
during  his  absence  he  had  entirely  forgotten 
the  English  language,  spoke  a  little  broken 
French,  but  was  perfect  in  Indian.  He  had 
been  with  the  savages  three  years,  and  one 
year  with  the  French  ;  but  his  habits  were 
somewhat  Indian  :  he  had  been  with  them 
in  their  hunting  excursions,  and  suffered  nu- 
merous hardships — he  could  brandish  a  tom- 
ahawk or  bend  the  bow,  but  these  liabits 
wore  off  bv  de«:rees.  1  carried  him  from 
that  place  to  Lancaster,  where  he  lived  a 
few  years  with  Col.  Aaron  WiHard.  ^^«.. 

I  lived  In  Lancaster  till  OctobcJi  1759, 
when  I  returned  to  old  Charlestovvn.  The 
sight  of  my  former  residence  afforded  a 
strange  mixture  of  joy  and  grief,  while  the 
desolations  of  war,  and  the  loss  of  a  num- 
ber ot  dear  and  valuable  friends,  combined 
to  give  the  place  an  air  of  melanchoUy. — 
Soon  after  my  arrival,  Major  Rogers  return- 
ed from  an  expedition  against  the  village  St. 
Francis,  which  he  had  destroyed  and  killed 
most  of  the  inhabitants.  He  brought  with 
him  a  young  Indian  prisoner,  who  stopped 
at  my  house,  the  moment  he  saw  me  he  cri* 


MRS.    JOHNSON. 


103 


charge 
when 
)f  me, 
I  some 
trance 
I  had 
old; 
gotten 
iroken 
le  had 
id  one 
were 
them 
ed  nu- 
a  tom- 
habits 
from 
\ed  a 

1759, 

The 

ded   a 

le  the 

num- 
ibined 

lly— 

eturn- 
ge  St. 
killed 
:  with 
Dpped 
le  cri* 


cd,  my  God,  my  God,  here  is  my  sister  ;  it 
was  my  little  brother  Sabbatis,  who  former- 
ly used  to  bring  the  cows  for  me,  when  I 
lived  at  my  Indian  masters.  He  was  trans- 
ported to  see  me,  and  declared  that  he  was 
still  mv  brother,  and  1  must  be  his  sister. — 
Poor  fellow  !  The  fortune  of  war  had  left 
him  withont  a  single  relation,  but  with  his 
country's  enemies,  he  could  find  one  who 
too  sensibly  felt  his  miseries  ;  I  felt  the  pur- 
est pleasure  in  administering  to  his  comfort. 

I  was  extremely  fortunate  in  receiving  by 
one  of  Major  Roger's  mv^n,  a  bundle  of  Mr. 
Johnson's  papers,  which  he  found  in  pillag- 
ing St.  Francis.  The  Indians  took  them 
when  we  were  captivated,  and  they  had 
lain  at  St.  Francis  tve  years. 

Sabbatis  went  from  Charlestown  to 
Crown-Point  with  Major  Rogers.  When  he 
got  to  Otter  Creek,  he  met  my  son  Sylva- 
nus,  who  was  in  the  army  with  Col.  Will- 
ard  :  he  recognized  him,  and  clasping  him 
in  his  arms,  "  My  God,"  says  he,  "the  for- 
tune of  war  !" — I  shall  ever  remember  this 
young  Indian  with  affection  ;  he  had  a  high 
sense  of  honor  and  good  behaviour,  he  was 
affable,  good  natured  and  polite. 

My  >,ughter  Susanna  was  still  in  Cana- 
da— but  as  I  had  the  fullest  assurances  that 
every  attention  was  paid  to  her  education 
and  welfare  by  her  three  mothers,  I  felt  less 
anxiety  than  1  otherwise  miglit  have  done. 


*• 


i  I 


104 


CAPTITITT  OP 


''^j 


Every  ane  will  imagine  that  I  have  paid 
ai&iction  her  utmost  demand,  the  pains  of 
imprisonment,  the  separation  from  my  chil- 
dren,  the  keen  sorrow  occasioned  by  the 
death  of  a  butchered  father,  and  the  severe 
grief  arising  from  my  husband's  death,  will 
amount  to  a  sum,  perhaps,  unequalled.  But 
still  my  family  must  be  doomed  to  further 
and  severe  persecutions,  from  the  savages. 
In  the  commencement  of  the  summer  of 
1760,  my  brother  in  law,  Mr.  Joseph  Wil- 
lard,  son  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Willard  of  Rut- 
land, who  was  killed  by  the  Indians  in  Lov- 
elPs  war  with  h^s  wife  and  live  children, 
who  lived  but  two  miles  distant  from  me, 
were  taken  by  a  party  of  Indians.  They 
were  carried  much  the  same  rout  that  I  was 
to  Montreal.  Their  journey  of  fourteen 
days  through  the  wilderness,  was  a  series  of 
miseries,  unknown  to  any  but  those  who 
have  suffered  Indian  Captivity,  they  lost 
two  children,  whose  deaths  were  owing  to 
savage  barbarity.  The  history  of  their  cap- 
tivity would  almost  equal  my  own,  but  the 
^tjader's  commiseration  and  pity  must  now 
Se  exhaused.  No  more  of  anguish,  no  more 
of  anguish,  no  more  of  sutferings. 

They  arrived  at  Montreal  a  few  days  be- 
fore the  French  surrendered  it  to  the  En- 
glish ;  and  after  four  month's  absence,  re- 
turned home,  and  brought  my  daughter  Su- 
sanna to  my  arms  ;  while  I  rejoiced  at  again 


^e  paid 
lains  of 
ly  chil- 
by  the 

severe 
hj  will 
1,  But 
further 
ivages. 
ner  of 
h  Wil- 
f  Rut- 
n  Lov- 
ildren, 
nn  me. 

They 
t  I  was 
urteen 
ries  of 
d  who 
V  lost 
ing  to 
ir  cap- 
ut the 
;t  now 

more 

vs  be- 
e  En- 
;e,  re- 
)v  Su- 
again 


MRS.  JOHNSOIT. 


105 


meeting  my  child,  whom  I  had  not  seen  for 
above  five  years,  I  felt  extremely  grateful  to 
the  Mrs.  Jaissons,  for  the  affectionate  atten- 
tion they  had  bestowed  on  her.  As  they 
had  received  her  as  their  child,  they  had 
made  their  affluent  fortune  subservient  to 
ber  best  interest.  To  give  her  the  accom- 
plishments of  a  polite  education  had  been 
their  principal  care,  she  had  contracted  an 
ardent  love  for  them,  which  never  will  be 
obliterated.  Their  parting  was  an  affecting 
scene  of  tears.  They  never  forgot  her  dur- 
intj  their  lives  ;  she  has  eiorht  letters  from 
them,  which  are  proofs  of  the  warmest 
Iricndsliip.  My  daughter  did  not  know  me 
at  her  return,  and  spoke  nothing  but  French; 
my  son  spoke  Indian,  so  that  my  flimily  was 
a  mixture  of  nations 

Mr.  Farnswortli,  j  -j  only  fellow  prisoner 
whose  return  I  havj  aot  mentioned,  came 
home  a  little  before. 

Thus,  by  the  goodness  of  Providence,  we 
all  returned  in  the  course  of  six  painful 
years  to  the  place  from  whence  we  were  ta- 
ken. The  long  period  of  our  captivity,  and 
the  severity  of  our  sufferincrs,  will  be  called 
uncommon  and  unprecedented.  But  we  e- 
ven  found  some  friends  to  pity,  amon j  our 
most  persecuting  enemies  ;  and  fiom  the  va- 
rious shapes  in  which  mankind  appeared, 
we  learned  many  valuable  lessons.  Wheth- 
er in  the  wilds  of  Canada,  the  horrid  jaiU 


!,^ 


106 


CAPTIVITY    OP 


of  Quebec,  or  in  our  voyage  to  Europe, 
daily  occurences  happened  to  convince  us 
that  the  passions  of  men  are  as  various  as 
their  complexions.  And  although  my  suf- 
ferings were  often  increased  by  the  selfish- 
ness of  this  world's  spirit,  yet  the  numer- 
ous testimonies  of  generosity  I  received, 
bids  me  suppress  the  charge  of  neglect,  or 
want  of  benevolence.  That  I  have  been  an 
unfortunate  woman,  all  will  grant  ;  yet  my 
misfortunes,  while  they  enriched  my  expe- 
rience, and  taught  me  the  value  of  patience, 
have  increased  my  gratitude  to  the  author 
of  all  blessings,  whose  goodness  and  mercy 
have  preserved  my  life  to  the  present  time. 
During  the  time  of  my  widowhood,  mis- 
fortune and  disappointment  were  my  inti- 
mate companions  ;  when  New-Enghuid  was 
ruled  by  a  iew  men  who  were  the  creatures 
of  a  Iving,  the  pleasures  of  dissipation  were 
prefered  to  the  more  severe  attention  to  bu- 
siness, and  the  small  voice  of  a  woman  was 
seldom  heard.  Hence  in  the  settlement  of 
my  husband's  estate,  the  day  and  perplexi- 
ty was  distressing.  I  made  three  journeys 
to  Portsmouth,  fourteen  to  Boston,  and 
three  to  Springfield,  to  effect  the  settlement. 
Whether  my  captivity  had  taught  me  to  be 
ungrateful,  or  whether  imagination  formed 
a  c:italogue  of  events,  I  will  not  pretend  to 
say  ;  but  from  the  year  1T54  to  the  present 
day,  greater   misfortunes  have  apparently 


MR8.  JOHNS  OX. 


107 


Europe, 
ivince  us 
arious  as 
my  sul- 
e  selfish- 
i  numer- 
'eceived, 
gleet,  or 
)  been  an 
;  yet  my 
ny  expe- 
patience, 
3  author 
d  mercy 
mt  time, 
od,  mis- 
mv  inti- 
and  was 
features 
on  were 
a  to  bu- 
[nan  was 
jment  of 
erplexi- 

ournevs 

» 

in,  and 
Llement. 
ne  to  be 

formed 
itend  to 

present 
Durently 


fallen  to  my  share  than  to  mankind  in  gen- 
eral, and  the  meteor  happiness  has  eluded 
my  grasp.  The  life  of  a  widow  is  peculiar- 
ly afflictive,  but  my  numerous  and  long 
journies  over  roads  imminently  bad,  and  in- 
cidents that  seemed  to  baffle  all  my  plans 
and  foresight,  render  mine  more  unfortu- 
nate than  common. 

But  I  found  many  attentive  friends,  whose 
assistance  and  kindness  will  always  claim  my 
gratitude.  Colonel  White  of  Leominster, 
with  whom  I  had  lived  from  the  time  I  was 
eight  years  old  until  I  married,  w^as  extreme- 
ly aifectionate  and  kind — in  bis  house  I 
found  a  welcome  home.  Mr.  Samuel  Ely 
of  Springfield,  who  was  the  friend  of  my 
husband,  rendered  me  numerous  kindnesses. 
Col.  Murray  of  Rutland,  and  Col.  Chandler 
of  Worcester,  were  verv  friend Iv  and  kind. 
Mr.  Clarke,  deputy  secretary.  Gov.  Pow- 
nall,  and  Gov.  VVentworth,  exerted  their 
influence  for  me  in  attempting  to  procure  a 
grant  from  the  General  Assemhlv. 

In  one  of  my  journies  to  Portsmouth,  I 
conversed  with  Capt.  Adams,  who  was  in 
Europe  at  the  time  I  was — he  informed  me 
that  while  there  Mr.  Apthorp  gave  him  four- 
teen pounds  stcrlino:,  for  the  purpose  of  con- 
veying me  and  my  family  to  America  ;  my 
sailing  with  the  convoy  prevented  my  re- 
ceiving this  kindness. 

During  the  four  years  of  my  widowhood 


■';■ 


i 


i 


A 


• 


108 


CAPTITITT  OF 


i.  i*.    ''■ 


I  was  in  quite  an  unsettled  situation  ;  some- 
times receiving  my  children,  who  were  re- 
turning from  captivity,  and  at  others  set- 
tling the  estate  ot  my  decceased  husband. — 
In  October,  1759,  I  moved  to  Charlestown, 
and  took  possession  of  my  patrimony,  con- 
sisting of  a  house  which  Col.  Whiting  had 
generously  assisted  my  mother  in  building  ; 
in  copartnership  with  my  brother  Moses 
Willard,  1  icept  a  small  store,  which  was  of 
service  in  supporting  my  family,  and  set- 
tling my  husband's  estate.  I  have  received, 
by  petitioning,  from  the  General  Assembly 
of  JNew-Hampshire,  forty  two  pounds,  to  in- 
demnify myself  and  family  for  losses  sus- 
tained  by  our  country's  enemies.  This  was 
of  eminent  service  to  me.  Mr.  Johnson  left 
with  Mr.  Charles  Apthorp,  of  Boston,  the 
sum  which  my  son's  redemption  cost,  for 
Col.  Schuyler,  who  had  paid  the  same.  But 
the  General  Assembly  of  Massachusetts  af- 
terwards paid  Col.  Schuyler  his  demand  for 
redeeming  my  son.  ^ 

By  Mr.  Johnson  I  had  seven  children  ; 
two  sons  and  a  daughter  died  in  infancy, — 
Sylvanus,  with  whom  the  reader  is  acquain- 
ted, now  lives  in  Charlestown.  Susarma 
married  Capt.  Samuel  VVetherbee,  and  has 
been  tiie  uiother  of  fifteen  children,  among 
which  were  five  at  two  births.  Polly  mar- 
ried Col.  Timothy  Bedel,  of  Haverill — 
died  in  August  1 789.     Captive  married  Col. 


G( 

ri( 

bal 

CI 


MRS.    JOHIfSOtX. 


109 


n  ;   some- 
»  were  re- 
)thers  set- 
Lisband. — 
irlestown, 
ony,  con- 
litin^  had 
building  ; 
er  Moses 
cli  was  of 
and  set- 
received, 
Assembly- 
ids,  toin- 
jsses  sus- 
This  was 
mson  left 
ston,  the 
cost,  for 
me.    But 
isetts  af- 
nand  for 

hildren  ; 
fancy, — 
acquain- 
Susaiina 
and  has 
,  among 
Ily  mar- 
verill — 
ied  Col. 


George  Kimball.  In  the  year  1762  I  mar- 
ried Mr.  John  Hastings,  my  present  hus- 
band ;  he  was  one  of  the  first  settlers  in 
Charlestown  ;  I  recollect  to  have  seen  him 
when  I  visited  the  place  in  the  year  1744 — 
he  suffered  much  by  the  Indians,  and  assist- 
ed in  defending  the  town  during  the  wars. 
By  him  I  have  had  seven  children ;  one 
daughter  and  four  sons  died  in  their  infan- 
cy. Theodosia  is  married  to  Mr.  Stephen 
Hasham  ;  Randilla  died  at  the  age  of  twen- 
ty two,  she  lived  from  her  infancy  with  Mr. 
Samuel  Taylor  of  Rochingham,  by  whom 
she  was  treated  with  great  affection.  I  have 
had  thirty  nine  grand-children,  and  four 
great-  grand-children. 

I  am  now  in  the  winter  of  life,  and  feel 
;  ensibly  the  effects  of  old  age.  I  live  on 
the  same  spot  where  the  Indians  took  u» 
from  in  1754,  but  the  face  of  nature  has  so 
changed,  that  old  savage  fears  are  all  ban- 
ished. My  vacant  hours  1  often  employ  in 
reflecting  on  the  various  scenes  that  have 
marked  the  different  stages  of  my  life.  When 
viewing  the  present  risino  generation,  in  the 
bloom  of  health,  and  enjoying  those  gay 
pleasures  which  shed  their  exhilcrating  in- 
fluence so  plentifully  in  the  morn  of  life,  1 
look  back  to  my  early  days,  when  I  too  wa» 
happy,  and  basked  in  the  sunshine  of  good 
forl^ine.  Little  do  they  think,  that  the  me^ 
ridian  of  their  lives  can  possibly  be  render- 


it 
1 


li  : 


J  ! 
'i  1 


110 


CIPTIVITY    OP 


h 


\h  -■  \.  i 


ed  miserable  by  captivity  or  a  prison  ;  as 
little  too  did  I  think  that  my  gilded  pros- 
pects could  be  obscured  ;  but  it  was  the  hap- 
py delusion  of  youth  ;  and  I  fervently  wish 
there  was  no  deception.  But  tluit  Being, 
who  "sits  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth,  and 
viev7S  the  inhabitants  as  grasshoppers,"  al- 
lots all  cur  fortunes. 

Although  I  have  drank  so  largely  from 
the  cup  of  sorrow,  yet  my  present  happi- 
ness is  a  small  compensh^tion.  Twice  has  my 
country  been  ravaged  by  war^  since  my  re- 
membrance; I  have  detailed  the  share  I  bore 
in  the  first ;  in  the  last,  although  the  place 
in  which  I  live  was  not  a  field  of  bloody 
battle,  yet  its  vicinity  to  Ticonderoga,  and 
the  savages  that  ravaged  the  Coos  country, 
rendered  it  perilous  and  distressing.  But 
now  no  one  can  set  a  higher  value  on  the 
smiles  of  peace,  than  myself.  The  savages 
are  driven  beyond  the  lakes,  and  our  coun- 
try has  no  enemies.  The  gloomy  wilder- 
ness that  forty  years  ago  secreted  the  Indian 
and  the  beast  of  prey,  has  vanished  away ; 
and  the  thrifty  farm  smiles  in  his  stead  ;  the 
Sundays,  that  were  then  employed  in  guard- 
ing a  fort,  are  now  quietly  devoted  to  wor- 
ship; the  tomahawk  and  scalping  knife  have 
given  place  to  the  sickle  and  plough-share  ; 
and  prosperous  husbandry  now  thrives, 
where  the  terrors  ojp  deaih  once  chilled  ug 
with  fean  ;    i  :       :  -i 


^ 


me, 

aunti 

magi 

kee] 

to  n 

Tic( 

my 

ing 


MRS.  JOHNSON. 


Ill 


son  ;  as 
d  pros- 
he  hap- 
ly wish 
;  Being, 
th,  and 
rs ,"  al- 


y  from 
happi- 
has  niy 
my  re- 
el bore 
e  place 
bloody 
ja,  and 
)untry, 
.     But 
on  the 
avages 
coun- 
rilder- 
[ndian 
away; 
1;  the 
;uard- 
wor- 
hare 
hare ; 
rives, 
ed  us 


My  numerous  pro;^eny  often  gather  arouud 
me,  to  hear  the  sufferings  once  felt  by  their 
aunt  or  grandmothei ,  and  wonder  at  their 
magnitude.  My  daughter,  Captive,  still 
keeps  the  dress  she  aj>[>e.'i  -ed  in  when  bro't 
to  my  bed  side  by  the  i^rench  nurse,  at  the 
Ticonderoga  ho-pital  ;  and  often  refreshes 
my  memory  with  p:ist  scenes,  when  show- 
ing it  to  her  children.  Ttiose  things  yield 
a  kind  of  melanchoUy  pleanire. 

Instances  of  lon^e\  itv  arc  remarkable  in 
my  family.  My  aged  mother,  before  her 
death,  could  ?ay  to  mc,  arise  daughter  and 
go  to  thy  daughte**,  for  thy  daughter's 
daughter  has  got  a  5'af!i>li'or  ;  a  command 
which  few  motliors  cri\  miike  and  bo  obeyed. 

And  now  reader,    liter  bincerely  wishing 
that  your  days  may  le  as  iiippy  as  mir 
have  been  unfortunate,  (  i^d  you  adieu. 

Charlestown,  June  3),!  798. 


■4 


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■■iailiii  III    I     ■ 


1 


